


All paths lead to you

by pegasus_fics



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Angst, F/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 123,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pegasus_fics/pseuds/pegasus_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her husband's death, Christine is forced to leave France and heads to London. What happens when Christine meets a man she thought long dead? Erik/Christine</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the 2004 movie. I visualize my characters as they are in the movie (except Erik doesn't wear a wig and his hair is black) but you are free to imagine them as you want. :) 
> 
> Due to the Paris Commune and the rebellion in spring of 1871, I'm setting the story 10 years later, ie. the movie happened in 1880 instead of 1870.
> 
> Fic cover: http://oi52.tinypic.com/wv995e.jpg

**Late October 1884**

She was awoken from a deep sleep by a sudden noise, noticing that her husband was not at her side in the bed. Just then she saw him at the foot of the bed, still in his evening clothing and looking very disheveled. She realized that the loud noise was actually the bedroom door as it clicked shut behind him. It was not his appearance that shocked her, it was the frightened look in his eyes. Her heart started to pound wildly, thousand questions running through her head.

"Raoul?" She asked quietly and this seemed to snap him out of his daze. He hurried to her side, the fear in his eyes even more tangible once he was closer to her.

"Christine, do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course. What's the matter, Raoul?"

"We need to leave."

"What?"

"Get dressed, Little Lotte." Christine sighed; she didn't like when he called her that. Not anymore. "Some plain dress, nothing fancy. You can't stand out in the crowds."  
She scrambled out of the bed and hurried to her wardrobe, already knowing how difficult finding a plain dress would be. If she still were a chorus girl in the opera, she would own a few plain dresses. _But you are not, Christine. You are a Vicomtess now._ He pulled out her traveling satchel.

"Pack only things you can't bear to leave behind."

"Where are we going?"

"I need to get you to safety."

"We're safe in the house, aren't we?"

"Not anymore. I'm so sorry, Christine. It's all my fault. Well, and Phillipe's." Her brows furrowed at the mention of his brother, who had been killed earlier that year. Thievery, they said.

"I don't understand." She finished dressing and started putting her few precious items in the bag.

Opening the drawer at her vanity, she pulled out her father's photo and her diary, making sure the dried red rose was safely tucked inside the yellowed pages, a black ribbon still around its stem. She fingered it gently before shutting the book and placing it in her bag. Raoul watched her movements but didn't say anything. Instead he sighed and began to pace the length of the bedroom.

"Phillipe got tangled in something he shouldn't have. He owed those men a rather large sum of money. After he discovered what kind of people they truly were, he refused to give them more money. Unfortunately they learned about our family's wealth and demanded more and more. I don't know why he never said a word of it to me. Maybe if he had, nothing would have happened to him."

"But Phillipe was killed by a thief." Raoul only shook his head sadly.

"It was staged. Once they saw he wasn't very forthcoming with money, they...disposed of him. After the funeral they contacted me. I did not agree to their outrageous demands and it escalated to the point where they started to threaten my family." She looked at him, wondering if she knew her husband ever at all. Since they'd been married, he was always away or busy with business and she often felt like a decoration in the big Chagny estate, having only servants at her disposal and no one to really talk to. Madame Giry and Meg have left Paris shortly after Christine's wedding to Raoul but she didn't know where they had gone. The wives of Raoul's business partners and friends from high society were usually very distant with her and throwing her dirty looks.

"I couldn't take that lightly, those men have no morals and they will stop at nothing, even murder. That's why I need to get you out of here as fast as possible, Christine."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to Paris. Take this, Christine." He took her hand and placed a small pouch in her hand. It was heavy and she looked at him confused. "There is more than enough money to go by for a few months. There are two train tickets to Calais. The train leaves from Paris at eight tomorrow. From there you will take a ship to Dover and then take the train to London. If I don't make it-"

"Raoul-"

"No, listen to me, Christine. If anything happens to me, you need to leave France without me, okay? Once you are in London I need you to find inspector Smith of Scotland Yard. He is an old friend of mine." Raoul paused briefly, not knowing how to break the news to her. "He has been helping me with tracking down our..." He hesitated, not knowing what to call the one person who put them through so much. " _Friend_."

"Friend?" She whispered, already fearing his answer.

"The Phantom." The silence that settled in the room was deafening. Christine could only hear the thundering of her heart and the heaviness of her breathing.

"You told me he was dead." Her voice wavered slightly, not believing what she was hearing. "You swore to me, Raoul!"

"I'm sorry, Christine." Her heart caught in her throat at the realization that her Angel was still alive. Her eyes flashed angrily.

"Why, Raoul? Why would you put me through all that pain and let me mourn him? Despite everything, he was, _is_ , my friend!" His eyes slid to the polished wooden floor beneath their feet with guilt and she wanted to hit him.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, knowing there was nothing he could say. Two years ago he had been incredibly selfish; he had let her believe the Phantom was dead, so she could forget and marry him. However, he had underestimated the depth of her feelings for the former Opera Ghost.

Her stomach plummeted as she remember his earlier words.

"All this time you had him followed, so you could turn him to the authorities?" His eyes snapped back to hers and widened slightly.

"No! I have had inspector Smith track him only recently, when I realized you were in danger. I knew he was the only person you would be completely safe with. I knew he would never hurt you." Whatever he was going to say next was drowned by a loud bang coming from downstairs.

"Raoul..." She moved closer to him and grasped his arm, feeling as if her heart was going to jump out of her chest. They both heard loud voices and heavy footfalls. Raoul reached for the lock in the door and it slid gently with a small click.

"Shh. Christine, this is important. You need to go now."

"I'm not leaving you here, Raoul!" She whispered and dug her fingers into his dinner jacket.

"You have to, Christine. Go to London. If I'm not able to stop them from going after you, find _him_. He will keep you safe."

"But Raoul-"

" _Please._ " The desperation in his voice moved her and she launched herself into his embrace just as the footsteps ascended the stairs. "I love you."

"I love you too." She whispered, her voice thick with tears. He released her and handed her the traveling satchel. The noises and voices grew louder as the men neared the bedroom door. Looking at her husband in panic, he ushered her to the opened balcony door.

"There is only one escape route, Christine. You need to climb over the railing and down the ledge." She nodded, cringing as the men outside tried the door handle.

"De Chagny! We know you're in there with that pretty wife of yours! Open the door!"

"Go, Christine." They walked together to the railing and she looked over it at the ground below in apprehension. She didn't have time to react when Raoul left her side and went back into the bedroom, closing the balcony door shut. Turning sharply at the loud bang that emitted from the room, she hid behind one of the large potted plants on each side of the doorway, her blood freezing in her veins at the scene inside.

Three large unkempt men knocked down the door and stalked to Raoul, who was standing beside the bed.

"Time for games is over, de Chagny. We want the money, now."

"I won't give it to you."

"Oh, really?" The tallest man sneered and pointed his gun at Raoul's head. "Maybe now you'll talk differently. Money and access to all your bank accounts. _Now_."

"And we will also take your precious wife to have some fun with her." One of the other men leered at Raoul. "Rumour has it that she was happily whoring herself out before you snatched her away from the Opera House. To the Phantom himself!" His mouth turned into a sleazy grin revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

"Over my dead body." Raoul glared at the men and the pistol aimed at his head.

"As you wish." Before any of them could do anything, the taller man pulled the trigger, sending a bullet to the middle of Raoul de Chagny's forehead. Christine nearly screamed as her husband sank to the ground with a sickening thud. She felt sick to her stomach and fought back the bile that rose in her throat.

"Why the hell did you do that for?" One of the shorter men asked. "He was the one who could get us the money!"

"But not the only one." The tall man smirked. "His wife surely has access to the bank accounts and I'm sure with a bit more persuasion we will get what we want and some fun on top of it. Let's go find that whore." Her stomach churned as she imagined what kind of fate would befall her if they got their hands on her. Standing on wobbly legs, she climbed over the railing and down the ledge slowly, making sure of her footing so she didn't fall. Once her feet were on solid ground she breathed a sigh of relief and crept around the house to the stables at the back. She entered and went to her white mare. The horse greeted her with a soft whine. Stroking along the animal's neck, Christine took a few seconds to regain her composure before saddling the horse, her moves automatic.

She knew that she couldn't take the road leading to and from the house, she'd risk getting caught. Instead she opted for the road through the woods in the back of the house. Leading her mare outside, she secured her traveling satchel on the saddle and mounted the horse, tucking her skirts around and any thoughts of propriety fled her mind as she sat astride the animal. With a last long look back at the house, Christine de Chagny disappeared under the cloak of the night.

Somewhere inside the deadly quiet house, the clock chimed three o'clock in the morning.

 

* * *

 

More than two hours later, the outline of Paris stretched on the horizon as Christine and her mare galloped closer and closer to the city. Half an hour later, Christine unmounted the horse and led her by the reins through the sleepy city. It was nearing six o'clock and they were both tired and hungry. Caressing gently the horse's snout, Christine knew she couldn't take the animal with her. A young stable boy from a nearby inn tended sleepily to the horses but when he saw her looking at him, he instantly became more awake.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle." She didn't bother to correct the young boy. "My name is Francois. Your horse is beautiful."

"Good morning, Francois. Thank you."

"Are you staying at the inn, Mademoiselle?"

"No. I only need someone to take a good care of her."

"I can do that!" He boasted with a smile and she managed a small smile back.

"I was hoping you'd say that. Here." She reached into her reticule and withdrew a few coins, placing them in the boy's small hand. His eyes widened at the amount of money he just received. "For taking care of her. I'm going far away and I can't take her with me." She handed him the reins.

"When are you going to be back, Mademoiselle?" That question weighed heavily on her mind.

"I don't know yet. " _I may never return._ "Thank you. Goodbye, Francois." With a last stroke along the mare's strong neck, she turned and left.

"Goodbye, Mademoiselle." He watched in confusion as she walked away. Then he looked up at the horse and smiled, leading her to one of the free stalls.

* * *

 

She walked and walked around the city until she found herself standing in front of the once glorious Opera Populaire. Her former home now sat there abandoned, an ugly scar in the otherwise perfect surroundings. She shook herself when memories started to overwhelm her and her stomach growled. Picking up a few pastries from a nearby café, she sat in the park close to the opera house. Looking around, she thought of her future. In a few hours she would be gone from Paris and all that she knew and would be traveling into a foreign country, forced to make a new life for herself. All alone. _Maybe not so alone, after all._ The inner voice taunted her, luring her into thinking about the man other than her husband. She resisted, still in a state of numbness, not wanting to dwell on last night's revelations and events.

An hour later she was already sitting comfortably in the train's private compartment, having it all for herself. She locked the door and drew the curtains to give her an added privacy. As the train started to move towards Calais, she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat and let the memories come to her. The first tears started to fall as she mourned Raoul's death. Dear sweet Raoul, her husband. She wept for him, for the years they spent together as the Vicomte and Vicomtess and as childhood friends; she wept for the man she had thought dead, for missed opportunities and roads not taken; for her friends, her family, her future and for herself. After she could cry no more, she welcomed the darkness of a deep sleep.


	2. A new world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine finds herself in a new world.

The rest of the journey to England was more or less uneventful; she kept her eyes downcast, pushing through the crowds at the Calais' and Dover's railway stations and at the docks in both cities. It was now evening as she strolled through London, looking for an inn to rest her weary head. She was exhausted from all the traveling, despite the numerous hours she slept on both the ship and the train. It was the knowledge that ate at her; she was now alone in a big city in a foreign country, barely speaking the language. In Dover she could still communicate in French as there were many French men occupying the english city, but she found that once she moved further north and into the capital, French became less and less common, making people harder to understand. She barely knew the basics and she knew she had to learn quickly, so she could make a new life for herself.

Strolling around the street, she planned to contact Inspector Smith on the morrow to see if he could help her one way or another.

Suddenly a big hand roughly took her arm, twisting it painfully. Her attacker was pressed behind her and in her mind's eye she saw one of Raoul's murderers. _They found me._ She gasped, trying to wriggle away from him. She could feel a cold blade press against her throat.

"Be quiet and give me all your money and nothing will happen to your pretty head." The voice spoke behind her in English with some accent. She only understood he wanted her money, so with shaking fingers she handed him her reticule. "There's a good girl. Thank you, darling, it's been a pleasure." The knife left her throat and she could hear the person running away from her. She closed her eyes, wanting to break down and cry. That was all the money Raoul had given to her and now she had nothing. With no money to pay for an inn, no familiar face around her, she didn't know what to do. She slid down the wall and sobbed on the wet and dirty pavement, wishing to be anywhere but here.

It wasn't long before she felt a hand on her shoulder and she recoiled from the touch violently, fearing of another thief.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you, darling." Christine looked up at the female voice. Her figure was mostly shrouded in the darkness but the street light gave her a sort of ethereal glow. "You shouldn't be here at this hour, it's not safe for a pretty thing like you." The woman reached with her hand and helped Christine stand. Dusting herself off, Christine peered back at the woman.

She was tall and gorgeous, perhaps four or five years older than Christine, with long red hair cascading over bare shoulders, her green dress accentuating her womanly figure beautifully.

"What happened to you, darling?" Christine picked up her satchel, thankfully the thief didn't notice it.

"Someone attacked me and took all my money." She sniffed and wiped her eyes, noticing the woman's confused expression and only then she realized she spoke French.

"You are French?" Christine nodded and the woman smiled. "My apologies, I do not speak French very well." She tried, her French laden with a heavy English accent. "Do you speak English?"

"Not very good."

"Oh, honey. Do you have anywhere to stay?" Christine shook her head, her eyes filling with tears again. "No money?" Again she shook her head. The woman looked at her for a few moments in silence as if pondering something.

"I'm Elizabeth, but most people call me Beth. And you?"

"Christine."

"You are beautiful, Christine. I think I can help you. But it doesn't depend only on me."

"What do you mean?"

"I live and work at 'The Duchess', just around the corner. It's run by Amelia and if I am to bring you in, I need her permission first."

"What do you do?" Elizabeth smiled.

"I keep men company."

"You're a prostitute?!" Christine exclaimed, her eyes wide, but she remembered her manners and clamped a hand across her mouth. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean-" Elizabeth just laughed and waved her away with her hand.

"That's alright, darling, no need to apologize. I'm not a prostitute, I work as an escort. Many think it's the same thing, but it's not."

"An escort?"

"I attend balls, dinners, gatherings, operas and other events like that when men hire me. They are usually unmarried, wealthy, sometimes mandrakes as well." She winked and grinned as Christine blushed. "They just usually want a pretty and smart woman on their arm, who can keep up with posh conversation."

"But you don't..." Christine trailed off and her blush deepened. The older woman just laughed at her shyness.

"Sex? It's not uncommon, but they must pay extra and clear it with Amelia first." She regarded Christine with a curious eye. "I won't lie to you, darling. If I take you with me, Amelia will take you under her roof, but you would have to earn your keep."

"Earn my keep?"

"Work for her. At least for a few weeks until you earned enough money to support yourself. It pays well and you don't have to worry about anything. Let me be honest, Christine. You have no money, no place to stay and you can barely speak English, no one would want to employ you for a reasonable wage." Christine knew that Elizabeth was right, and even if she could get employed, it'd take months before she could earn decent money to sustain herself. And this opportunity that Elizabeth was giving her was certainly better than prostitution.

She could do this. She could be an escort. Now as she looked back at the last two years, she could have very well been considered an escort; looking pretty on her husband's wealthy arm on various aristocratic events, sometimes engaging in posh conversations. She could do this.

"Will you take me with you, Elizabeth?" Christine asked and Elizabeth grinned widely.

"I thought you'd never ask." She hooked her arm around Christine's and led her toward The Duchess.

_If only Papa could see me now, I wonder what he'd say._

* * *

 

The click of horseshoes and the rattle of wheels on the paved London road were the only sounds filling the small carriage, where two gentlemen sat in silence.

"You know, people have been talking about you, Garnier." The man with brown hair, moustache and brown eyes broke the silence.

"You mean even more so than usual?" The man across from him smirked. The brown haired man just rolled his eyes at his friend.

"They are wondering why such a successful architect always comes to these events alone." His friend said nothing and just stared outside the window as they passed the night London streets. "There are ways..." Green eyes snapped to brown ones.

"A common whore, Edward?"

"That is not what I meant. You could hire an escort." Edward heard a snort coming from his friend.

"Is that what they call them presently?"

"They are not prostitutes, Garnier. In two days time National Gallery is opening. Just think about how it'd look like if you showed up at the gala with a pretty lady on your arm. It will keep the business coming."

"How do you even know anything about escorts?"

"I have used their services before. Of course before I met my wonderful Isabelle." Edward smiled, fondly remembering his second wife, knowing he was forever indebted to his companion for introducing them in the first place. "If I may recommend, 'The Duchess' is a very good escort house. It's run by Amelia; tell her that Edward sent you." He winked at his companion, who sighed and turned again to the window, the white mask on his face shining in the moonlight.

* * *

 

A pair of smiling brown eyes scrutinized Christine from head to toe and front to back, Elizabeth standing next to her with a smile on her face.

"You are beautiful, my dear." The woman with the brown eyes said to Christine, her French only slightly accented. She was decidedly older than Christine, around her forties. "I think you will fit nicely into our little family. My name is Amelia, I run this place. Beth tells me what you have been through, you poor thing. What is your name?"

"Christine."

"A pretty name for a pretty lady. However, all my girls have a false name, it's easier that way and some want to escape their past." She regarded Christine again for a long while. "What do you think, Beth? How does Anna Renaud sound?" Elizabeth beamed.

"I think it's perfect. Christine?" Christine thought for a moment, repeating that name over and over again in her head before she smiled at the two women in front of her.

"I like it."

"Beth, show Anna her room and around the house. Welcome to the family, Anna." Amelia smiled kindly at her and waved them off.

"Thank you, Amelia." Christine smiled. She was now simply Anna. No Vicomtess de Chagny, mourning her husband, nor Christine Daaé, a former diva and chorus girl of the Opera Populaire; all horrors of her past buried underneath her new persona.

_Anna._

Christine smiled.

As Elizabeth led her through the house, she pointed out various rooms to her; her own, the kitchen, the dining room, the music room, the library and living room and at last Christine's own room. Setting down her satchel on the bed, she looked around the spacious place; it was very clean and inviting, the walls painted a soft shade of lavender. She turned with a smile to Elizabeth and she was astounded by her beauty. If she thought Beth was beautiful in the shadowy street, now bathed in the soft candlelight she was simply the most beautiful woman Christine had ever seen. The light seemed to weave golden overtones into her red hair and her eyes were deep blue with a golden halo around the pupil.

"There's a bathroom for your own disposal through that door." Beth pointed to a white door and Christine nearly sighed at the thought of a hot bath for her aching body. "In the wardrobe you will find all you need, if any of the dresses don't fit you, give me or Amelia a call and we will help you. If you have any questions about what is expected of you, don't be afraid to ask." She winked at Christine, one hand at the door handle. "However, you've been through a lot today, so go take a bath and then go to bed, everything can wait until tomorrow."

"Thank you, Beth."

"You are welcome, darling." With that, the door shut behind her and left Christine alone. She decided to take Elizabeth's advice and took a long soak in the bath and then headed straight to bed, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the soft pillow.


	3. First outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine is employed at the Duchess.

When she awoke it was almost noon, her stomach protesting loudly for skipping dinner the day before and this morning's breakfast. She stretched and rose from the bed, going over to the wardrobe and looking through the day dresses. They couldn't compare to the wardrobe of a Vicomtess but Christine didn't mind. They were very pretty, even though they were a bit loose around her. She put on a pale blue dress trimmed with lace, the neckline a little more daring than she was used to as a Vicomtess. She waved it away; this was her new life and Anna Renaud dressed like this.

She went downstairs and found Elizabeth sitting in the dining room with her lunch. She looked up as Christine approached and patted the table in front of her. A lone untouched dish sat on the polished table and her mouth watered at the delicious aroma.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." Beth grinned at her as Christine took a seat.

"I was really tired from all the traveling. Is this for me?" She pointed to the plate and Beth nodded with a smile.

"Dig in." Christine did so with a gusto and then curiously looked around.

"Where is everyone?"

"They already ate and went about their business."

"I have so many questions for you, I don't know where to start." She smiled shyly, breaking the silence between them.

"Then let me tell you the basics and we can go from there, okay?" Pleased with Christine's nod, Beth began to explain.

"As I told you yesterday, men come in and hire us as their companions for many various events. Usually those events are held in the evenings, but there are some events that are held in daylight, such as horse races. The gentlemen tell Amelia what event it is and she assigns one of us to the man, if he doesn't have any specific wishes. Most men don't, but some are very picky; they want tall and blond or short and raven haired with blue eyes." She sipped her water and quickly continued, shrugging.

"You don't have to be afraid of them, they are usually very polite, not to mention filthy rich, so you won't get just anybody off the street. I should also mention that they can make you their exclusive."

"Exclusive? What does that mean?"

"It means that they pay extra to make sure you won't get assigned to other men and only go with one gentleman whenever he wishes to. Being an exclusive is a dream job. It brings in more cash and it has its advantages." Beth's eyes glazed over and a dreamy smile stretched her lips. Christine raised her eyebrow and Beth chuckled. "I've been an exclusive for about four weeks now. Baron Andrew Marshall. I have more free time for myself and I even get gifts from him. I swear it's like a relationship. But don't go falling in love with anyone you are assigned to, it can get quite ugly."

"What am I supposed to do at the event?"

"He will usually tell you what he expects from you beforehand. That reminds me we need to polish up your English." Beth winked at her and Christine couldn't help but blush. Her thoughts however drifted to the one aspect she was dreading in this job.

"What about the..." Her blush deepened and Beth chuckled.

"The sex?" She waggled her eyebrows. "You need to loosen up, darling. You're like a blushing virgin." She paused and looked at Christine seriously. "You're not, are you?" Christine shook her head, her curls falling around her face from her loose braid.

"I...I was married." She said quietly and looked into her empty plate, seeing her husband lying on their bedroom floor in the back of her mind. She sighed heavily and forced the image away. "I'd rather not talk about it, Beth."

"Oh." Beth could tell this topic was better left alone. "I understand."

"Tell me about it, please."  
"Well, if they want to hire us for the entire night, they need to tell Amelia beforehand and pay extra. We aren't forced to do anything we're not comfortable with, so you don't have to be afraid. If you don't want to do it, you won't have to." Christine nodded and let out a small sigh of relief. A small mischievous smile played on her lips as she regarded the older woman.

"Do you and Baron...?"

"Oh, yes!" Beth chuckled, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. "He's not the first I've done this with since Amelia took me in five years ago, but let me tell you that these men are very generous. Before this I've never known that I could experience such passion and pleasure." Her grin was wide and Christine turned a deep shade of scarlet, not used to such improper talks.

She would never admit it out loud but when Raoul had touched her, whether intimately or not, she had never felt the passion that her Angel invoked in her; the passion and deep soul bond she became aware of as they stood together on stage for Don Juan Triumphant.

Even when she had fulfilled her wife duties, Raoul had always been slow and gentle, trying not to hurt her, but never really caring much about her own pleasure, so he had often left her hanging on the edge as he had rolled over and went to sleep after he had finished. Hearing Beth talk about such things with a smile on her face made Christine resent Raoul a little, for he never ignited that passion in her. She wanted to feel that emotion, she wanted to succumb to those pleasures but she knew she wanted to experience it in the arms of only one man. The man responsible for awakening her sexual awareness two years ago.

"Anna?" Christine was brought out of her reverie by Beth calling her new name.

"Hmm?"

"Have you listened to a word I just said?"

"No, I'm sorry. I was miles away." She blushed, biting her lower lip. Elizabeth only chuckled knowingly and shook her head.

"I said that we could start on your English now for a few hours. I have an outing with Andrew tonight, so we will continue tomorrow morning, if that's alright with you."

"I'd like that." Christine smiled at Beth and followed her to her new own room.

* * *

 

The next morning

The front door of The Duchess creaked lightly and the bell at the front desk rang, alerting Amelia to a new visitor. She smiled and walked from her office to the front door, looking at the newcomer. He was dressed in dark grey suit, tall and imposing. He was looking around and Amelia saw his black hair, chiseled jaw and strong features. When he turned, she was a bit startled by the white mask he was wearing on the right side of his face, but didn't let it show. The uncovered side of his face was very handsome and his eyes were the most intense shade of celadon green with specks of blue she ever saw. This man oozed power and sensuality and he carried an aura of mystery around him.

"Good morning, sir. How are you today?" She smiled at him and received a small quirk of his lips in return.

"Good morning. I am well enough, thank you. I'd like one of your escorts for this evening. Edward McNeil sent me."

"Ah, dear sweet Edward." Amelia smiled, a bit stunned by the sound of the man's voice. Never has she heard a more perfect sound! "What kind of event are we talking about, sir?"

"A new art gallery is being opened tonight. My presence is needed as I'm the one who designed it."

"Oh, is it the beautiful building in Westminster? I love it! You designed it?"

"Indeed, Madam." He smiled slightly and it struck Amelia how handsome he truly was. "Erik Garnier." He bowed lightly.

"Amelia Durant." He kissed the back of her offered hand lightly and she fought the urge to blush, which was highly unusual reaction for her years. "Forgive me my impertinence, sir, but are you French?" She asked, hearing a very slight French accent in his voice.

"I am, Madam."

"If you don't have a particular girl in mind, may I suggest Anna? She is French and very beautiful. She came here just yesterday and I think this particular event would be a good way for her to begin."

"I shall follow your advice, Madam. It would be nice to speak with someone in my native tongue again. Have her prepared for seven o'clock, I will arrive for her in my carriage. I trust you can choose a proper dress for this occasion?"

"Yes, sir. It shall be done as you requested, Mr. Garnier."

"Thank you, Madam Durant. Good day to you." He bowed slightly and was out of the door at once.

"Good day indeed." Amelia murmured to herself and smiled. Somehow she had a feeling that Anna was perfect for this gentleman.

* * *

 

Now she only had to let the girl know. Following a sound of laughter into the library, upon entering she found Elizabeth and Anna sitting at the table.

"No, that's not how you pronounce it!" Beth giggled and Anna couldn't help but laugh with her. Amelia cleared her throat and both girls looked up. "Oh Amelia! I was just teaching Anna some English."

"That's good because you shall be using it soon, Anna." Christine raised her eyebrows, not knowing what she meant. "I had a visit from a gentleman today and I thought it would be good for you to begin with small events." Christine tensed a bit, not knowing if she was indeed ready to become an escort. "You don't have to worry, darling. He's French, so you won't have problems communicating with him."

"What event is this, Amelia?" Elizabeth asked curiously, pleased for Anna to have her first outing.

"An art gallery is opening tonight. He designed it."

"An architect?"

"Mr. Garnier. A very handsome architect at that." Amelia winked at blushing Anna, deciding to leave out the mask. She figured he was probably hiding some deformity or war injury and she knew better than to mention it to him. Hopefully Anna will too see beyond the gentleman's mask and enjoy the evening.

"Oh, we need to get you ready, then!" Elizabeth laughed and pulled her from the chair, dragging her upstairs.

* * *

 

It was almost evening when both women decided what Christine should wear for her first escort. In between laughter and odd English lessons, they decided upon an off-shoulder emerald silk gown, simple, yet beyond anything Christine has ever seen.

"I remember my first escort." Beth smiled dreamily at Christine as she adjusted her dress. "He was tall, dark hair, brown eyes and charming smile. We attended a ball and I felt like a princess all night." She rose from her position on the floor and looked at Christine from head to toe. "But you, you _look_ like a princess!" She laughed and Christine waved her away.

"I do not. It's not even a ball." She skimmed her hand down her bodice and then her full skirt, admiring the way the green silk changed colours as lights fell upon the soft material.

"Nevertheless, you look amazing. If his jaw doesn't hit the floor, then he must be a mandrake." Christine blushed as she sat at her vanity, still not really accustomed to taking compliments, mainly because she didn't think of herself as extraordinarily beautiful. She didn't believe anyone when they called her beautiful. Elizabeth stepped behind her and eyed her wild curls with a scowl. Christine laughed, she knew her hair was very difficult on the best of days and completely unmanageable on the worst. "Now we shall tame this wild beast." She announced and put her hands to work. Half an hour later, Christine couldn't recognize herself. Her hair was left down and cascaded over her back, a few loose strands framing her face were pulled to the back of her head and pinned with a sparkling flowery pin.

"You look wonderful, darling." Christine turned and saw Amelia standing in the doorway with a smile. "Now, have these." She handed Christine a flat velvet box. Carefully, she lifted the lid and gasped at the diamond necklace with little emeralds and two small matching earrings. She was used to jewellery set with hundreds of diamonds and precious stones that felt very heavy around her throat and she disliked most of them. She had never said a word to Raoul about his extravagant gifts, for she didn't want to hurt his feelings. But looking at this delicate necklace, she knew that she'd pick this one herself; it was exactly her taste.

"Where do you get this?" She asked Amelia as Elizabeth helped her with the necklace.

"Some jewellery and dresses are gifts from the gentlemen, some are what I had purchased from their money for my girls. I only want the best for you." She gave both women a motherly look, something that reminded her of Madame Giry. "I shall be waiting for you downstairs." She winked and disappeared down the hall. It wasn't long before Amelia called from downstairs.

"Anna, the carriage is here!" Christine pulled on her long white gloves and fastened her cloak around her, letting out a shaky breath.

"Nervous?" Beth asked with a grin and Christine looked again into the mirror.

"Yes."

"You will do fine, darling. You look gorgeous and he is very lucky to have you on his arm tonight. Have fun tonight." She gave Christine a wink as they descended down the stairs. She found the downstairs lobby empty and turned to Amelia, bewildered.

"Is he not here?"

"Waiting in the carriage." Amelia saw her nervousness and ran her hand along Christine's arm in a comforting gesture. "You go on. I have a feeling you two will get on splendidly." With that she opened the front door for her and Christine stared into the night and at the carriage standing nearby. Hesitantly, she walked outside but soon her footsteps gained confidence and she raised her chin lightly, smiling softly.

* * *

 

The driver climbed down from his seat and held the carriage door open for her, holding out his hand to support her as she climbed into the dark carriage. The door shut behind her at once and she busied with arranging her skirts and cloak around her, feeling her heart pounding loudly in her chest as she felt the man's presence in the enclosed space.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Monsieur. My name is Anna and I will be your escort tonight." She tried to look for him but her eyes haven't adjusted in the dark yet. When he didn't reply, she tried again, hesitantly. "Monsieur? Sir?"

"You are the last person I expected to enter my carriage, _Vicomtesse_."


	4. The Gallery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casting notes: You can imagine Edward as slightly older brown-eyed Clive Owen with a 19th century beard. :)
> 
> Other notes: I have taken some liberties with the buildings mentioned. National Gallery of British Art (today known as Tate Britain) was opened in 1897, but for the sake of the story, it's a few years earlier. And as for Savoy Theatre, it was opened in 1881, but in my story it will be 1883. :)

Christine froze at hearing her former title and then her heart nearly stopped.

_That voice._

That voice that haunted her dreams; so achingly, hauntingly familiar. There was no malice in that voice, just a genuine surprise. Her heartbeat redoubled its pace as he tapped the roof and the carriage set to motion. She had yet to see him but there was no doubt in her mind that Monsieur Garnier and her Angel were one and the same. Finally her eyes adjusted and she could see him in all his glory. A black half-mask covering his deformity, his black clothing impeccable - from the black cravat and brown vest with golden stitching to the fitting trousers encasing his long legs, his intense gaze resting on her.

Since Raoul's death she spent many a night thinking about what she'd say to her Angel once she saw him again, but now that he was sitting across from her, every word stuck to her throat.

"There is no Vicomtess, Monsieur. She died with her husband." She saw his visible eyebrow lift but he didn't say anything; he didn't even make a comment about his rival's death. Christine drew the cloak close around her as silence fell between them.

"Very well." He leaned towards her, the moonlight from outside caressing his uncovered features. "Erik Garnier at your service, Miss."

"Anna Renaud." She said softly, timidly holding out her gloved hand, letting him drop a kiss at the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers. She swallowed hard at his intense gaze.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Anna." To her surprise the corner of his mouth quirked into a smile as he continued to hold her hand gently.

"Likewise, Monsieur." She blushed and withdrew her hand. Even in their game of pretense she couldn't suppress her attraction to him and deny the pull he had on her. Soon the carriage came to a halt and the door swung open. Erik climbed out first, holding out his hand for her to take as she climbed out after him. They both took off their cloaks and left them with the driver in the carriage. She took a good look at the brightly lit building they were now standing in front of and her jaw dropped a little. It was beautiful, every little detail perfect, from the glorious portico to the imposing sculptures on the roof. She heard a chuckle next to her and turned to Erik, who was looking at her.

"Do you approve?"

"It is beautiful. You designed this?"

"Yes. Welcome to the National Gallery of British Art." He offered her his arm with a flourish and she took it without a second thought. "Shall we?" He began leading her up the stairs and Christine found herself smiling as they entered the gallery. If anyone would ask her why she was smiling, she'd say she was happy to have her Angel beside her once again.

* * *

 

The interior of the gallery was no less beautiful than the outside and Christine looked around in wonder as they mingled among the crowd of businessmen and upper class Londoners in the beautiful octagon room. Several people nodded to Erik in greeting with a smile, to which he politely inclined his head and smiled lightly. It was rather odd to see him among the society like any other man. Still, there was a certain stiffness in the way he carried himself and she could feel him tense a few times when people looked at them with interest. She cast a sideways look at him, which he noticed.

"Forgive my restlessness, I do not feel comfortable in large crowds."

"It's alright, I understand." She did understand more than anyone here and Christine wondered if any other escort girl would understand had she not been chosen. She doubted it and saw the slight twitch of his lips as he fought a wry smile, probably thinking along the same line.

"I despise most social gatherings but if one wants to be a successful architect, they need to appear in public once in a while. Or so my solicitor tells me."

"Erik!"

"Speak of the devil..." Erik murmured to himself as a tall, cheery, brown-haired man with a moustache approached them. "Edward."

"I was wondering if you were going to come."

"I was merely saving myself from your verbal lashing lest I did not show myself." Edward broke into a wide grin and then his eyes settled on Christine. Erik immediately noticed and hurried to introduce them. "Where are my manners? Edward, this is Miss Anna Renaud. Anna, my business partner, solicitor and friend in one person, Edward McNeil."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss." Edward gave her a charming smile and she tried to mask her blush as he kissed the back of her hand. She completely missed the mischievous look Edward gave Erik. Erik narrowed his eyes.

"Is your wife not joining you, Edward?" Erik asked politely but Edward sensed a warning in his voice.

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. She was complaining about her upset stomach and tiredness."

"Well, it is not unusual in her condition." At Christine's confused look, Erik explained. "Isabelle is with child."

"Congratulations, Sir."

"Please call me Edward." Christine nodded and smiled politely. She was beginning to like this man. Edward gave her a warm smile and then turned back to Erik. "My wife insisted that you should join us for dinner on Friday. It has been too long since we all dined together." Casting a quick glance at Christine, he added. "Maybe you could take Miss Renaud with you; Isabelle would love to have a woman to talk to. Apparently there are things she can't discuss with me."

"You know how I hate to disappoint your wife, Edward." Edward and Erik shared a secret smile and there was a warmth in Erik's eyes she's never seen before. She masked her confusion with a smile of her own and listened to their conversation with interest.

"Good, then that's settled. We shall expect you at seven o'clock."

"Mr. Garnier, Mr. McNeil, Miss." A short older man approached them with a smile and there was another round of introductions to Erik's business associate, Mr. Williams. Christine was pleasantly surprised that Erik had made a life for himself, even though he still seemed to prefer seclusion or just a small company of his friends.

"How fares my theatre, Mr. Williams?" Theatre? Christine looked at Erik with a mild worry; surely he wouldn't revert back to his haunting ways when he had become a successful architect, would he?

"Oh, just splendidly, Mr. Garnier!" The smaller man beamed at him, nearly clapping his hands in delight. "Your advice proved to be invaluable. The lead female soprano is magnificent."

"I'm glad to hear it." Erik smiled, genuinely, and Christine wondered if the Opera Populaire would have improved had the managers listened to the Phantom's advice. As far as she knew, his demands were never _that_ unreasonable. She knew that Monsieur Reyer appreciated the Phantom's advice regarding the orchestra, and even marvelled at the complexity and uniqueness of Don Juan Triumphant.

"Erik designed and owns the Savoy Theatre." Edward leaned toward her to explain quietly and she nodded with delight, happy for her former teacher for getting the recognition he deserved. "He's rather brilliant." He winked at her and she blushed lightly. Yes, she knew how much he could be.

"I have found that Mr. Garnier is a man of many talents." She said softly, without thinking. Edward's eyebrows rose and she chanced a quick look at Erik, who was staring at her with a mix of disbelief and amusement at her rather risqué response. After a few seconds of silence, Edward chuckled in amusement, slapping Erik's shoulder with his hand. Erik's visible eyebrow rose dangerously, but Christine could see he was suppressing a smile. She thought she'd never get used to such sight.

"Excuse me, Miss Renaud, gentlemen." Mr. Williams spoke up and three pairs of eyes settled on him. "Would any of you join me at the buffet table?" Both Erik and Christine shook their heads, while Edward nodded readily.

"Now that you mention it, I am rather hungry. Miss Renaud. Erik." He smiled and the two gentlemen left, chatting amiably. Christine smiled and looked at Erik, who seemed to relax slightly during the encounter with his friends.

* * *

 

"They seem like good people." She remarked, slipping back into French, feeling more confident in her mother tongue.

"They are." He nodded with affirmation, gently laying his hand at the small of her back, leading her through the crowds deeper into the museum among the exhibitions. She didn't recognize most of the names associated to the displayed art, but admired their beautiful work nevertheless.

From the corner of her eye Christine watched Erik's profile as he studied the art with a critical eye. Her eyes followed the unmasked side of his face, the angle of his jaw and the line of his strong neck, his straight nose and dimpled chin. It occurred to her then how strikingly handsome he really was. Had he not been born with the deformity, would they ever meet? Would he help her in achieving her dream of performing on stage by training her voice to perfection? Would he fall in love then as well? Would _she_?

Shaking herself from this train of thought, she turned her eyes back to the paintings. However, soon her eyes and thoughts strayed again to her companion, now further away from her, the black of his mask now in her clear view. In a way she was glad for his deformity. She wouldn't wish on anyone all the horrible things he must have gone through in his life. No, her reasons were purely selfish. Despite all his past transgressions and the things she said to him and _about_ him, she was glad to have met him and she couldn't and didn't want to imagine her life without knowing him.

Still, Christine was quite unsure of how to behave, now that they have been reunited. In the carriage it seemed they were going to pretend not to know each other but she knew her curiosity was greater than that. She had so many questions to ask him. How did he escape the mob in his lair? What had led him to England? What life has he led in between now and then? Why did he never tell her his name before?

Her eyes searched for him, noticing Erik talking to Edward again around the corner. It was clear that Erik was the same man, but something about him was different now. He seemed calmer now, almost... _happier_. Swallowing, she turned from admiring _The Decline of the Carthaginian Empire_ by Mr. Turner and made her way over to them, stopping when she heard they were talking about her.

"I see you took my advice. Miss Renaud..."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Erik interrupted, looking away and Edward laughed, slapping Erik's shoulder.

"Miss Renaud is a very beautiful lady. You should make her your exclusive."

"Exclusive?"

"Pay extra to make sure no other gentleman gets to enjoy her _services_." When Erik said nothing, Edward prodded more. "Erik, it would do you good. I'm not suggesting that you court her, just enjoy the company of a lady. It's been too long and I know she has hurt you badly, but that's in the past." Christine frowned at Edward's words and saw Erik's face fall. Did Erik tell Edward about his past in the Opera? About her? "What Sarah did is unforgivable but she's not here anymore, you left her." Sarah? Who was Sarah?

"Show the society that even a recluse like you can find a beautiful lady."

"I am a recluse by choice, Edward."

"I know." Edward chuckled and the two fell into silence. Christine noticed that most of the crowd's chatter has died down and an elderly gentleman was giving a short speech in the octagon area.

"Go up there and do your part, Erik." Christine heard Edward say.

"You know how I loathe this, yet you still make me do it."

"Maybe you will make an impression on your companion."

"I do not want to impress _anybody_." Christine smiled to herself and the smile only widened as he rounded the corner and walked past her in a huff, not even noticing her.


	5. The Gallery, part 2

"Of course this magnificent building wouldn't be standing here without its magnificent architect. Therefore without further ado, please welcome Mr. Erik Garnier." A round of applause echoed inside the vast octagon room and Christine joined in, smiling, as Erik took the man's place and began his speech. She walked around the room, which was dedicated to JMW Turner's paintings. She listened to the melodic sound of Erik's voice as she studied Turner's _Chichester Canal_ painting. Both combined brought a sense of serenity to wash over her; suddenly all her troubles were gone and the past didn't matter. It was only this moment and the sound of his voice, which she could listen to forever. In reality, his speech lasted no more than five minutes and soon people mingled and conversed again, accompanied by the soft music from a string quartet situated in the octagon room.

"Some say these vibrant colours were inspired by The Year Without a Summer." The same voice sounded much _much_ closer to her now and she suppressed a shiver at its softness. She turned slightly to find Erik holding out a glass of champagne for her. She took it with a smile of thanks and took a small sip.

"The year without a summer?" Erik nodded and went on explaining.

"1816 was a year of severe climatic abnormalities. Global temperatures dropped almost by one degree and caused major food shortages."

"What caused the temperature change?" He smiled lightly at her curiosity. Once more they were in the position of student and teacher, him teaching her new things about the rest of the world.

"It is believed that a series of volcanic eruptions were at fault, most prominently the eruption of Mount Tambora in Indonesia. Less sunlight is passed through the volcanic ash in the atmosphere. It was the ash that led to some spectacular sunsets and many believe those were Turner's inspiration." Returning her eyes to the painting, she studied the vibrant yellows and oranges once again.

"It looks so peaceful."

"And dangerous." At Christine's questioning look, he explained. "The volcanic ash contains dangerous chemicals which can damage your health if you don't protect yourself."

"That's a shame. It's so beautiful."

"It is. But sometimes the most beautiful things can be deadly." She looked at him from the corner of the eye and found him watching her intensely, his expression unreadable. She was about to respond but was saved by Edward who approached them. Relieved, Christine took a sip of her champagne and smiled at Edward, ignoring Erik's lingering look before he too turned to his friend.

"Nice speech, Erik." Edward nodded his head in approval. "You should do that more often." He held up a finger as soon as he saw Erik starting to protest. "Ah! Yes, I know you loathe it. But you have to admit that it brings more business. I have already acquired three new customers tonight." Christine saw Erik roll his eyes dramatically and had to suppress a smile.

"We will discuss this on the morrow, Edward. We do not want to bore Miss Renaud with business talk."

"Oh, I do not mind."

"I insist. May I suggest some refreshment?"

"That would be lovely."

 

* * *

 

Together they walked towards the buffet table, placed a few snacks on their respective plates and sat down to eat. Erik didn't seem to mind the silence between them but Christine felt rather uneasy; she felt compelled to start a small conversation, ask him a few things about his life in England but without prying too much.

"What else did you design, Monsieur?" Surprised by hearing her speak up, he looked up at her and watched her for several long moments. He was silent and she thought he wouldn't answer her, but then he started to speak.

"When I first arrived in England, I built a couple of upper-class residences near Dover and a few public buildings along the south coast. Word spread around and I was called to London to work on larger projects. Savoy was the first large project I worked on."

"Monsieur McNeil told me you own the theatre."

"I do own the most part of it, yes." He didn't elaborate further and silence befell around them once again, much to Christine's frustration. She wanted him to ask her about France, about her life with Raoul, about his death and why she ended up working as an escort. She wanted to tell him _everything_ , but so far he hadn't shown any interest in her previous life. She figured maybe it was better that way for them both, to detach themselves from their shared past and the hurt she had caused him.

"Come, let me show you the rest of the gallery."

 

* * *

 

In the next hour, Erik led her through the vast building, describing some of the essential design elements but also occasionally pointing out an interesting drawing or sculpture. Christine looked around in awe and marvelled at Erik's genius. She knew he was an unrivaled music genius, but she had no idea he was so skilled in architecture. What other talents did he have? And would she ever know them? Suddenly she remembered her remark from earlier that evening and blushed. She lowered her head and tried to mask her rosy cheeks by arranging her skirts around her and brushing off an invisible lint from the material.

She glanced at her companion who walked silently next to her with his hands clasped behind his back, but he seemed not to notice. When she felt the heat on her face lessen a little, she raised her head once again.

"It is late, we should take our leave." Erik spoke up and Christine nodded. She figured Erik didn't want to be among so many people longer than necessary. She was a bit tired herself, so she appreciated his initiative an took his offered arm. On their way out they said their goodbyes to Edward, who made sure to remind Erik of the dinner on Friday and to smile charmingly at Christine as he kissed her hand goodbye.

Soon after that they were back in the carriage and on their way back to The Duchess.

 

 

* * *

 

"I hope your first outing was acceptable." He said after the carriage set to motion. She turned from the window to look at him. He was mostly hidden in the shadows, but she could see the unmasked side of his face and his green piercing eyes.

"It was pleasant. I really enjoyed myself." She smiled at him and watched him study her. She knew he was trying to determine whether she was being honest, so she held his eyes with her own to let him know she had meant it. Seemingly satisfied, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a small smile.

"I'm glad." There was a short pause when he looked briefly out of the window and sighed. "I did not plan on doing this more than once, but Edward had thwarted my plans as is his usual habit. I will require..." he paused, unsure of what to say. "...your services more often as it wouldn't be appropriate to have a different lady on my arm on following events." Her pulse quickened at the thought of being on Erik's arm on more occasions other than this Friday at the McNeil residence. Was this his way of telling her she would be his exclusive?

"Of course, Monsieur."

"Erik." The tone of his voice was soft, yet allowed no argument as his eyes bore into her. She didn't protest; for so long she had wished to know her Angel's real name and now she could finally address him by his first name.

"Erik." It was strange at first, but she liked how his name felt on her tongue as she said it out loud. He too seemed pleased and the silence that followed afterwards didn't feel uncomfortable in any way.

* * *

 

After a few minutes, the carriage stopped in front of The Duchess, the driver opened the door and helped her out. To her surprise Erik climbed out as well, walking by her side as they reached the building. Christine quietly opened the front door and before she opened it fully, she turned to him, prepared to say goodbye. Before she had the chance, he spoke up.

"I'd like to discuss with Madam Durant our...arrangement."

"Of course. Please come inside." They both entered and Erik closed the door behind them. "Excuse me, I will go get Amelia." He nodded and clasped his hands behind his back, waiting patiently. Christine knocked on Amelia's office door and when she heard her employer's voice, she entered, finding Amelia at her desk writing a letter.

"Good evening, Amelia."

"Anna! Good evening! I hope you enjoyed yourself on your first outing."

"I did." Amelia smiled in satisfaction and nodded her head.

"What can I do for you, darling?"

"Mr. Garnier would like to speak with you."

"Oh? What about?"

"He would like to discuss future arrangements." Amelia's eyebrows rose in surprise but her smiled widened.

"Well, let's not keep the gentleman waiting. I will be right out, you go ahead." Christine exited the office and made her way back to Erik.

"Amelia will be here presently. I think I will retire for tonight. Goodnight, Erik."

"Very well. Thank you for your company. Goodnight, Anna." He smiled and inclined his head lightly. She gave him a smile in return and made her way up the stairs. "You looked beautiful tonight." His voice stopped her in her tracks just as the door of Amelia's office opened. Christine turned to look at him, but he was already busy speaking to her employer. For a brief moment his eyes met hers over Amelia's head before the contact was broken again. She ascended the stairs and walked through the long hallway into her own room, leaning heavily against the door as it shut behind her. Looking into the mirror at her vanity across the room, she studied herself from head to toe and took in her pink cheeks.

He had called her beautiful.

And for the first time in her life, she truly believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To get a better idea of what painting was Christine looking at, just google 'Chichester Canal' and the painting is the first in the picture results.


	6. The day after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Christine's first outing.

"I heard that somebody made a very good impression last night."

Christine looked up to find Elizabeth standing in the doorway with a cheeky grin on her face. Christine smiled and shook her head, focusing again on her work.

"So much so that he made said someone his exclusive." Elizabeth continued and Christine tried to hide her blush, unsuccessfully. "What are you doing, darling?" She motioned towards Christine's sewing.

"I'm just fixing myself some of the day dresses, they were missing a few buttons." Elizabeth just nodded and grinned widely, sitting beside Christine at her bed, her curiosity getting better of her. Christine smiled at the older woman's antics; at times she could be like her dear friend Meg.

"So...how was it? Did you enjoy yourself?" She asked and Christine bit her lip. She couldn't possibly tell her that she knew her customer because she'd have to retell her whole life. Now she was Anna, a woman without a past, so that had to stay buried inside.

"Yes, I did." Christine hid her smile at Elizabeth's frustrated sigh.

"And? Is he as handsome as Amelia leads me to believe? He's not a mandrake?" She bit back a giggle at the thought. _Erik was definitely not a mandrake._ It was still strange to think of him as Erik; all her life she knew him as her Angel and after he had revealed himself, he was her Angel, the Phantom or the Opera Ghost. She knew she would get used to it the more time she spent with him and she felt giddy at the thought.

"Yes, he's handsome." It was voiced without a doubt. No matter what Raoul and everyone else had said, he was not a monster or a devil because of his deformity. And though his face bore the blemish, underneath it all and despite everything he was a good man; a beautiful misunderstood genius shunned by the society and his own family. He had witnessed the ugly side of mankind and it made him who he was today. "And not a mandrake."

"Oh, I'd love to meet him sometime!" Elizabeth smiled excitedly but Christine wanted to change the subject, so she remarked casually:

"I didn't see you at the breakfast this morning."

"I had breakfast at the Marshall residence." Christine's head snapped up and she regarded Elizabeth curiously. "I spent the night." The older woman smiled and blushed lightly, playing with the hem of her sleeve. After a few moments of silence she stood and walked over to the door. "Who knows? Maybe soon you will find out for yourself how generous these men can be." She gave Christine a wink and closed the door behind her as she left. Christine's smile waned as she thought about what Elizabeth had insinuated.

She knew Erik had the opportunity to ask for such relations but the question was, would he dare? Would he dare, knowing that underneath this facade was still Christine Daaé, the woman he had claimed to love two years ago, the same woman who had left him heartbroken underneath the Opera Populaire, the very same woman he had _killed_ for? If he did choose to do it, would she be willing to allow his touch without any barriers between them? Would she be able to give her body to him in a meaningless way? _Could_ it be meaningless?

She did not know answers to any of those questions and rather pushed them in the back of her mind. She was Anna Renaud now and Erik Garnier was a stranger to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Erik sat in his office at the Savoy theatre and went over some of the paperwork when a knock on the door interrupted his concentration.

"Come in." He called and put the paperwork aside. The door opened and revealed his business partner, smiling widely from beneath his beard. "Edward. What can I do for you?"

"Always down to the business, Erik, correct?" Erik just rose his eyebrow as Edward took off his hat and sat opposite his friend. "I was passing by and I thought we could talk."

"About?"

"About last night."

"What about last night?"

"Come on, Erik. I'm dying to know." A pair of green eyes scrutinized him and Edward huffed impatiently.

"You look well enough."

"It's a figure of speech, Erik, and you know it. Why must you be so difficult?"

"How long have you known me, Edward? I have always been like this. If you want my answer, you need to be more specific." Even though Erik knew what his friend was asking, he could not resist annoying him. With Isabelle and Edward's recent presence in his life, Erik discovered a playful side of himself, that side which enjoyed vexing the easily-annoyed older gentleman.

"I'm asking about Miss Renaud. What happened? What did she say?"

"You are such an old tattletale, Edward." Erik gave him a small frown. "I see no reason to divulge information of such personal nature to you."

"I'm your friend, Erik. And you forget it was _me_ who told you about the escort service." Edward gave him a winning smile and Erik concluded defeat.

"Very well." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He couldn't tell Edward who his escort was for Erik himself did not have the answers to the questions Edward would surely ask. He spent the rest of the night unable to sleep; he tossed and turned on his bed, his mind full of questions. Why was she here? When did she arrive? How did Raoul de Chagny die? Why didn't he leave her with money to provide for herself a comfortable life? Why was she working as an escort?

He wanted answers but he didn't want to bring up their past. In the carriage she seemed happy to play the game of pretense, as if they had never met. During the evening it was hard for him to pretend, for whenever she looked at him, he remembered the last time he had seen her; as de Chagny escaped with her in the boat, leaving Erik in his lair to face the angry mob.

When she climbed into his carriage and once he saw her features clearly, to say he was in shock was a woefully inaccurate description. His heart, or whatever was left of it, skipped a beat and then redoubled its pace. He didn't know what to say, so he voiced the first thing that came to his mind. When he first mentioned her title in the dark of the small cabin, in a split second he saw her face contort in fear. He thought she was scared of him, but then her expression changed to something akin to both relief and shock. Erik was understandably confused. If she wasn't afraid of him, _who_ was she afraid of?

"Erik?" He was brought out of his musings when Edward called his name, watching him with a mild worry. Only then Erik realized he was frowning deeply at his desk.

"I am sorry, Edward. I didn't sleep well last night." That made Edward's eyebrows rise slowly nearly to his hairline and a sly smile spread across his face. Erik wished he could take the words back immediately.

"Did she keep you up all night?"

"Edward, please. Spare me this." He glared at his friend across the table. "It was her first outing and she said she had enjoyed herself. I took her back to The Duchess."

"Okay. Did she ask about the mask?" Erik stiffened slightly in his chair, even though he knew that Edward asked in concern. After two years knowing the man and being his friend, Edward knew what lay behind the mask. It didn't change his opinion of him and for that Erik was grateful.

"No, she didn't." _She didn't have to, she had already seen this curse in all its glory._ He thought sardonically and sighed.

"You should keep her around." Edward said with a wink.

"I am not courting her, Edward. It's simply what it is, a business transaction." Although Erik hated to think of it as such, it was true. He was paying her for her escort services. He didn't like to think about the circumstances which had led her up to this point. In his eyes, she could do so much better. Why didn't she attempt to audition in one of the London theatres?

"I know. It's just that you two make a lovely pair." Edward shrugged and Erik sighed again, checking his pocket watch, and rose from his seat.

"If you will excuse me, I need to oversee the auditions for a lead tenor. It is _my_ theatre, after all." Edward just nodded and grinned and watched his friend walk away.

 

 

* * *

 

After a long, tiring round of auditions for the lead tenor, Erik strolled down the street to clear his head to prepare for the afternoon rehearsals. The opera season would begin soon and the Savoy theatre would open the season with 'Faust'. It was the second year of his theatre and Erik hoped it to be as successful as the first one, if not more.

But the more he thought about his theatre and the new opera season, the more his thoughts turned to Christine. With her being here, so close to him, brought back memories that settled as a heavy chain around his heart. He hadn't been in his right mind those last few months at the Opera Populaire and in the end after Don Juan he had been so ridden with rage and jealousy that went beyond all reason.

He sighed. That particular part of his life still weighed on his mind every now and then, but since Christine entered his life yesterday, he found himself thinking about it more only to stop when he began losing himself too much in those dark thoughts again. Even though he still preferred darkness and seclusion, he now lived in the light and walked among ordinary people. At first it had been hard for him but with the unwavering support of Isabelle and Edward, he had managed to face the world again. Even Sarah, in her own way, had helped him. Sighing and shaking his head at the thought of her, he continued on his walk. The park he passed was full of children's laughter and the sound of wind scattering the few fallen leaves on the ground.

Walking another couple of minutes, he wasn't much surprised to find where his feet had carried him. The beautiful white three-story building of The Duchess stood across the street in a decent and rather peaceful part of London. There were no advertisements, no glaring signs to disclose its purpose. Erik found himself admiring the architecture and the small well-cared for garden in the front. Last time he had been there in broad daylight, he was rather nervous about this whole ordeal and didn't have the mind to appreciate his environment. Now, as he stood across the street, he studied the building with interest, his eyes keenly darting from one window to the next, wondering where her room was located.

He checked his watch and then crossed the street, opening the small front gate and walking down the path to the front door. The door still had that faint creak as he opened them and stepped inside the empty antechamber. The house was surprisingly mostly quiet but a few times he heard faint stomping above his head and very feminine giggles coming from somewhere in the house. He took off his hat and rang the bell at the front desk, waiting.

A rustle of fabric caught his ears and he turned to the sound only to find a tall red-haired woman turn around the corner. When she saw him, she smiled, eyeing his entire form quickly.

"Good day, sir. My name is Elizabeth, how can I be of help?" Erik was pleasantly surprised that she didn't seem to acknowledge his mask nor did she seemed scared of him; instead she was smiling at him, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Good day, Madam." He inclined his head slightly in greeting and let a soft smile touch his lips. "My name is Erik Garnier and I'm looking for Madam Durant." A spark of recognition at his name showed in the woman's eyes and his eyebrow rose slightly in curiosity. Her smile widened, showing straight, pearly white teeth as she nodded hurriedly.

"Oh, of course, sir! I will be right back." She dashed out of the room almost in excitement, disappearing somewhere in the back of the house and Erik had to smile. Obviously Elizabeth knew who he was, maybe she was a friend of Christine? Before he could contemplate it further, Amelia appeared in the foyer with Elizabeth in tow.

"Mr. Garnier, it is good to see you again."

"Madam Durant." He smiled at the older woman. "I am here to discuss my next outing with Miss Renaud. I failed to mention it last evening." Amelia smiled delightedly and turned to Elizabeth, who stood nearby wearing a similar smile.

"Thank you, Elizabeth, that will be all." Elizabeth nodded and looked at him again, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. Despite her being older than Christine, Elizabeth reminded him of little Meg Giry in many ways.

"It was nice meeting you, sir."

"Likewise, Madam." He watched as she scurried away and then turned his eyes to Amelia, who had been watching after Elizabeth as well with a motherly smile. That particular expression reminded him so much of his friend and guardian, that he almost felt a stab in his heart as he remembered Antoinette Giry.

"She's a good girl. She brought Anna here after what happened to her." Amelia remarked, still staring at the spot Elizabeth was occupying moments before. Erik swallowed and straightened, almost too afraid to ask.

"What happened?"

"She was mugged, the poor thing. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to, couldn't speak much English." Amelia sighed sadly and shook her head. "But Elizabeth has taken Anna under her wing and is teaching her."

"That is very kind of her." Erik nodded, glad for that small piece of information. At last he knew what drove her here and he had these two women to thank, because they didn't leave her on the streets like some vermin.

"Now you have mentioned something about a next outing with the lovely Miss, have you not?" Erik smiled and inclined his head slightly when Amelia broke the silence that settled over them momentarily.

"Indeed. Me and Miss Renaud have been invited to dinner at the McNeil residence on Friday at seven o'clock."

"Wonderful; is it a formal or informal event?"

"Rather informal, Edward and his wife are friends of mine."

"Very well, Mr. Garnier. I'll see that Miss Renaud will be ready by six-thirty."

"Thank you, Madam. Good day." He bowed lightly and put his hat back on, walking out into the sunny afternoon.  



	7. Second outing

Christine emerged from the bathroom when suddenly her door was thrown open and a red-faced Elizabeth came rushing in, making Christine nearly drop the towel around her body in surprise.

"Elizabeth!" She shrieked and clutched the towel with both hands to cover her nudity, desperately looking at the gaping door and Elizabeth standing in the middle of the room. Elizabeth took in Christine's appearance and went to shut the door behind her.

"Sorry!" She grinned sheepishly after turning back to Christine. "I'm just so excited! And besides, you don't have anything which I haven't already seen." Elizabeth winked at her and Christine blushed. She went behind the dressing screen in one corner of her room and began putting on her clothing.

"What has got you so excited?" She asked as she dropped the towel and pulled on her chemise.

"There was a certain man downstairs. Tall, dark hair, handsome..." She trailed off and looked at the screen expectantly but Christine just made some noncommittal sound as she untangled the laces on her corset. "Why did you never tell me that Mr. Garnier wore a mask?" There was a sharp intake of breath, what sounded as a muttered curse, a rustle of fabric and then a blushing Christine emerged from behind the screen, holding her corset to her body.

"Was it him downstairs, then?" At Elizabeth's nod she turned around facing her vanity, gathering her hair so they didn't obscure Elizabeth's view on the laces. She sighed as Beth began lacing the corset tightly, thinking of what to answer her. "I didn't tell you because it didn't seem important."

"He is handsome though, at least the left side of his face. I wonder what he hides under that thing. Maybe some war injury? Did you see?" Christine swallowed hard and thought back at her horrible selfish actions on the night where Erik had taken her to his lair. She had wanted to see what he was hiding and with one unfeeling movement, she had ripped the mask from his face, unleashing his anger. Now she knew what a stupid, stupid child she had been back then. With that action she had damaged their already fragile trust but even though he had been furious, he had forgiven her in the end and that made her feel even worse.

"Yes." The word left her mouth before she could stop it.

"And? What is the mask hiding?" Christine thought about how to best describe his deformity. The night of Joseph Buquet's death she had described his face to Raoul as something too terrible to see. _It was hardly a face in the darkness..._ She closed her eyes as she remembered her exact words, wishing she could take them back. Yes, she had been shocked and a bit scared when she first saw it, for she had never in her short life seen anything like that. In the end, after she had unmasked him in Don Juan, Erik's face was just like any other to her. When she had looked upon him in his lair, she hadn't felt disgusted or scared. His face didn't make him who he was, it was his surroundings and the things he had gone through in his life. It wasn't his face that people had to fear; it was the society that shunned such genius just because of how he looked.

"A birth defect." She said at last when Elizabeth jerked her back into the present with a last forceful pull at her corset laces. "He doesn't like people staring at him or questioning him about it. He told me people fear him without his mask." It was a lie; in reality he had never told her this.

"Does the mask not intimidate people also?"

"I suppose." There was a small pause as both women got lost in their own thoughts.

"You were right, though." Elizabeth broke the silence at last, running her hand through Christine's wet hair, meeting her eyes in the vanity mirror. "He _is_ handsome. It's such a shame; just imagine what a charmer he would be if he hadn't been born with it." Christine just smiled at that, for she had the same thoughts the previous evening.

"I wonder what he was doing here." She mumbled to herself but Elizabeth had heard it and smiled triumphantly.

"He was just telling Amelia about the dinner at the McNeil residence on Friday at seven o'clock." Christine turned abruptly, her eyes wide, her jaw slack and her voice an octave higher.

"You were eavesdropping?" She shrieked and found Beth's hand around her mouth immediately.

"Shhh! Yes, I was curious. You would tell me anyway."

"Maybe so, but never do that again. It's unbecoming of a lady." Elizabeth merely laughed at Christine's serious expression and helped her into her dress.

"Well, I'm no lady. We have to pick you a dress! Oooh, I have a perfect one for you in my closet." She pulled Christine by her hand out of the room, talking excitedly about Christine's next date.

 

* * *

 

"Stop fidgeting!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she made last minute adjustments to Christine's dress. It was one of her own dresses but she no longer fit into it.

"I don't want to be late." Christine said and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"You won't be late."

"Make haste, he will be here soon!" Amelia called out from downstairs as if on cue. Elizabeth laughed and stood from her crouching position near Christine's feet and took a step back to look at the younger woman fully.

"You look absolutely lovely, Anna." Christine smiled and looked at herself in the mirror and the sky blue taffeta dress she was now wearing. The top part was embroidered with small purple and dark blue flowers. The neckline was square but not too low and soft white lace hemmed it's edge and the 3/4 long sleeves. The skirt was full but simple and nearly reached the ground. She smoothed her hands down the soft and slightly shiny fabric, twirling around, admiring herself in her vanity mirror. Her hair was pulled back from her face so that it cascaded down her back freely.

Elizabeth helped her with her cloak and Christine gave herself one last look before sighing and facing the older woman, who was smiling knowingly.

"Nervous?" Somehow Elizabeth had the uncanny ability to tell how Christine felt, so it was no surprise she had picked up on Christine's slight anxiety.

"Less than before. But yes." She let out a soft laugh, trying to shake off that fluttering feeling in her stomach as she watched Elizabeth cleaning up the mess she had made during the dress adjustment.

It was true, she was less nervous because she knew who was waiting for her but at the same time being in close proximity with that person unleashed dozens of butterflies in her stomach. It didn't help that this evening was more informal than the previous event and although she had met Edward before, she was still a bit anxious. He and his wife were Erik's friends and she didn't want to leave a bad impression or embarrass Erik in any way. Christine smiled wryly at her reflection; she didn't care about leaving a bad impression with Raoul's friends, why should she care now? She knew that the answer was not money. Yes, she was paid to look pretty on his arm and to be a good company, but despite that she felt herself connected on a deeper, more personal level.

Sighing softly, she now realized how futile her attempt at disconnecting from her past life had been. As long as Erik was around, she wouldn't be able to suppress that part of her, that part that knew him and their shared history.

"Anna, Mr. Garnier has arrived." Amelia appeared in the doorway with a smile, waking Christine from her thoughts. Amelia reached up and gently touched her chin. "And lose that frown dear, it doesn't suit you." Christine realized she had been so lost in her thoughts that she was frowning at her reflection. She let a small smile spread across her face. "That's much better. Now go and have a nice evening."

Straightening, Elizabeth gave Christine a wink and grinned. "Have fun."

Christine merely smiled and walked down the stairs, holding onto the railing, for her legs were shaking slightly. As she opened the front door, she saw Erik standing outside of the carriage, dressed impeccably in his usual black clothing and white half-mask covering his face, the long black cloak swirling around his legs as the wind picked up. Her heart rate quickened and she felt lightheaded. The wind rustled the fallen leaves around her feet and she drew her cloak tighter around her against the sudden chill. Despite her nervousness, her smile widened and it didn't take her long to reach his side.

"Good evening, Anna." He smiled lightly, raising his hat briefly in greeting. He offered her his hand, wrapped in leather black glove.

"Good evening, Erik." She put her hand in his, suddenly very aware of the feeling of the cool leather against her soft skin; just like when he had first showed himself and led her through the Opera cellars into his lair. As he leaned down to press a kiss on her hand, she could see he was slightly surprised to see her hand bare but apparently didn't think much of it as he pressed a light kiss on her skin. The touch of his soft warm lips on the back of her hand made her skin tingle and warmth spilled from where his lips had been to the rest of her body. His eyes lifted to hers and for a tiny moment they just stood there looking at each other, her hand clasped securely in his.

"Shall we?" He broke the silence at last, opening the carriage door. Christine just nodded, not trusting herself to speak, her hand suddenly feeling cold as he released it. He helped her into the carriage and then climbed in, sitting opposite her. She heard the door shut with a little click and they were once again plunged into the darkness. In the faint moonlight she could see him pulling off his gloves, revealing his long, strong fingers. Before she could ask what he was doing, he handed her the gloves, taking her by surprise. "It's cold, you need them more than me."

"Thank you." She said almost reverently, pulling the black leather over her stiff fingers. She almost moaned at the warmth left behind by his hands, _his_ warmth that dissolved the chill in her own hands and fingers. Satisfied, he tapped the ceiling of the carriage and it set to motion.

A pair of eyes appeared in the darkness as the carriage drove away, watching and waiting.

 

* * *

 

The motion of the carriage swayed them into silence and Erik watched Christine as she looked outside the window with a small smile on her face. He felt quite perplexed as to its meaning; she seemed content to be in his company, almost happy. Was this a ploy? Was she really at ease as she seemed or was she masking her true uneasiness? Erik knew she had been a good actress in the past, but she was not _that_ good. The way she spoke to him and acted towards him was sincere and he could glimpse the old Christine every now and then. Normally Erik would have preferred silence but tonight he had the strangest urge to break it.

"The McNeil residence is on the other side of town, so it will take us longer to get there." He said at last after searching for a suitable conversation topic. Christine met his eyes and smiled, nodding.

"Okay." She looked briefly down at her lap, where her hands rested. Seeing her pull on _his_ gloves and wearing them quite happily made something in his chest tighten. To many his gesture may have seemed insignificant, but to him it was personal, almost intimate. "How did you meet Monsieur Edward?"

"When I first arrived in England, he was looking for a business partner. I showed him my designs and he took me in."

"What led you to England?" She questioned again and Erik was taken aback by her boldness but her question didn't surprise him; he knew it was a matter of time before her curiosity got to her. He wanted to tell her everything but he didn't trust her enough yet to share that. That trust had been shattered the moment she had taken off his mask in front of the whole Opera house. He had forgiven her quite easily when she first glimpsed behind his mask but on that stage it had been different and he still couldn't get past her betrayal. He sighed quietly and pushed the memories back into his mind.

"Personal matters." He replied vaguely, waiting for her reaction. Where once she would have demanded a less vague answer, now she just looked at him curiously and nodded, not delving further into the subject. Erik was glad to find that Christine had matured into a beautiful and strong woman. She was more confident now and less of a damsel in distress and she had an air of defiance around her.

The rest of the journey was spent in silence until the carriage came to a halt in front of the McNeil residence.


	8. Dinner at McNeill's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In my fic, Isabelle is portrayed by Lena Headey.
> 
> You can listen to Pachelbel's Canon in C here: http://youtu.be/_0uBwTZNqWA . :) This one is my favourite version.

As they neared their destination, Christine looked in awe from the window at the landscape around them. As far as she could tell they were still in London suburbs, though it looked more like the English countryside. The carriage turned onto a path that led to a building at the end. As they came closer, the detached building became more visible and her eyes widened as she took in the two-story villa. Even though it wasn't as large as the de Chagny estate, it was clear that Monsieur McNeil was a very wealthy man. It was opulent, but not overly so like she had seen back in Paris when visiting Raoul's friends and family.

The front lawn was trimmed neatly and lined the paved driveway on both sides. The carriage came to a halt and Erik exited first, making sure to help her as she too got out of the carriage.The shrubs around the front of the house were very well cared for and there were a few piles of freshly raked leaves. Now that she was so close to the building, she could admire the villa in its entirety.

"It's beautiful. Did you design it?" She turned her head to look at her companion. Erik smiled lightly and nodded his head.

"It was my wedding gift for them." Christine smiled and looked at the building again before following Erik to the front door. He knocked and they waited for a few moments, before the door swung open and revealed the beaming master of the house himself. That took her a little by surprise for she assumed Monsieur McNeil would have at least a couple of servants for such household.

"Erik, Miss Renaud! Come in, please!" She felt Erik's hand at the small of her back, gently pressing, urging her forward and inside the warmth of the house. She entered with a hesitant smile the brightly lit entrance hall, looking around. She wondered if she would ever stop being impressed by the things Erik designed. Edward took Erik's cloak and hat and Christine was about to shed her own when she felt Erik's presence behind her, his fingers gently pulling down the material from her shoulders and handing it to Edward. She suppressed a shiver and took of Erik's gloves. She handed them over and saw Edward's eyebrow rose as he looked behind her at Erik. In Edward's opinion the gloves were too large for her feminine hands and to him they looked very familiar.

"Erik!" A female voice called out and they all turned to the woman on the stairs. Beaming, she descended the stairs quickly and rushed over to them. Christine watched in stunned surprise as the woman linked her arms around Erik's neck and embraced him tightly as he wound his own arms carefully around her torso.

"I told you not to run down the stairs in your condition." He said sternly but Christine could see a smile on his face. The visible side of his face showed infinite tenderness as he held the woman almost reverently to his body. Something stirred inside Christine and she turned her gaze briefly downward.

"I know but I haven't seen you in so long. I have missed you." She drew back slightly and rising on her tip-toes, pressed a kiss to his exposed cheek.

"I have missed you as well, Isabelle." Isabelle then turned to look at Christine and she got a first clear look at the woman. She was a few centimeters smaller than her, had long raven hair, slightly angular face and bright green eyes. She was slender but the slight roundness of her stomach clearly indicated she was with child.

"You must be Anna, Edward has told me all about you." Her smile was infectious and Christine found herself smiling back. This woman seemed to put her to ease merely by smiling and Christine took a liking to her immediately.

"Please allow me to formally introduce you. Miss Renaud, this is my dear wife Isabelle."

"It is pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McNeil."

"Oh, none of that! If I am to call you Anna, then you must call me Isabelle." Isabelle took both her hands in hers and Christine just nodded shyly. "The dinner will be served shortly. Why don't you two go discuss your business, meanwhile I will get to know Anna a little bit better."

"As you wish, dear." Edward replied with a smile. "Come Erik, I have some designs I wanted to show you." Christine felt herself being pulled in one direction by a rather excited Isabelle. She looked back over her shoulder at Erik, who was watching them with a raised eyebrow. The corner of his mouth quirked up and he turned, going after Edward into his study.

"I'm so glad that you were able to come. As much as I love my husband, sometimes I need a female companionship as well for I can't tell him everything." She smiled widely and then sighed. "You must excuse my behaviour, Anna. I'm not fond of the upper class rules of conduct at my own home. Being from a poor family, I find some of these rather amusing."

On the contrary; to Christine Isabelle was like a breath of fresh air. After two years of having to act like a proper lady, she was tired of it all. She wanted to enjoy life to its fullest without rules. Maybe that's what drew her to Erik; maybe her life would have been happier with him. She knew he wouldn't look down on her if she expressed her opinion, he would be always willing to listen no matter how silly her ideas were and he would not scold her for not acting like a proper lady. He wouldn't be appalled if she expressed the wish to ride astride her horse or that she chose to forgo wearing a corset. She wanted to be able to express herself freely, like Isabelle or Elizabeth.

"On the contrary. I wish I could do the same. You have a beautiful house, Isabelle."

"It has always been my dream house. I nearly fainted when Erik presented it to us as a wedding gift." She smiled in remembrance and led Christine to the spacious living area. The walls were decorated with dark wood panelling, the floor covered by thick dark red carpet. On one side of the room, a fire roared in the hearth and cast a warm light around the whole room. There was a chess table near the fireplace, a huge bookcase on the other side and an easel with a clear canvas. The seating area of dark wood looked especially inviting but what caught her eye immediately was the grand piano in one corner of the room. She looked at it longingly; it had been a long time since her soul had been filled with music. After she had learned of the Phantom's 'death', the music had left her and she no longer had the desire to sing. Now that she knew the truth, she longed to make her song take wing once again.

"Do you play?" The question fell from her lips unintentionally while her gaze never left the instrument. Isabelle followed her line of sight and smiled widely, going over to the instrument and sitting down on the bench.

"I do. Music is my passion. I have been teaching it for some years." She patted the seat next to her and Christine sat down dutifully.

"You're a music teacher?" Christine asked in surprise. A piano was one thing, but having two music teachers in one house made her miss music all the more. Oh, how she wished she could sing!

"Well, was. Before Edward told me to cut down the work because of my pregnancy."

"How far along are you?"

"Five months. I cannot wait to see our baby. I swear Edward is more excited than me." Christine chuckled and watched as Isabelle rubbed her belly lovingly.

"Do you like music, Anna?"

"It has always been a large part of my life." She nodded and looked down at her hands in her lap. "I loved to sing."

"But not anymore?" Isabelle asked softly, carefully, seeing the sudden forlorn look on Christine's face. It tugged violently at her heartstrings and she found herself reaching out for the young woman.

"I haven't sung in a long time."

"That is such a shame. What happened?" There was a pause as Christine thought about how to respond.

"My music left me." She said brokenly, her voice cracking in the middle. They fell into silence before they were startled by a throat clearing. They both looked up to find Erik standing in the doorway.

"I apologize, I did not mean to interrupt. The cook said that dinner was ready." Isabelle rose from the bench and narrowed her eyes at him.

"You should stop sneaking around like that, Erik." She scolded him playfully and Christine's lips turned into a wry smile as she stood as well. _Some habits are hard to get rid of. Especially for someone who spent most of his life underneath the Opera house._ Isabelle hooked her arm around Christine's as she led them into the dining room. Erik stepped aside to let them pass and Christine smiled at him. However the smile he gave her didn't reach his eyes; instead he looked rather dismayed and she wondered how long he had been standing in the doorway.

 

 

* * *

 

"I don't mean to be rude, Isabelle, but where are your servants?" Christine asked shyly as they walked through the foyer with Erik two steps behind them. There was a slight chuckle from Isabelle but another voice from behind them replied.

"We have no servants, Anna." She turned her head slightly to find Edward had fallen into step beside Erik as they entered the lavish dining room. "My dear wife loves to do everything herself. You will find that our little family is rather unconventional. Right, Erik?" He pulled the chair for his wife as Erik did the same for Christine on the opposite side of the table before seating themselves. As soon as everyone was seated, the meal was finally served.

"Indeed. It was not an easy task to persuade Isabelle to hire more help." This sparked up a teasing conversation between the wife and husband and Christine tried to stifle a giggle. She felt Erik lean closer towards her, slipping back into French casually, his breath ruffling the hair at her temple. She bit her lip briefly and sipped her red wine to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

"What do you find so amusing, Mademoiselle?" Christine placed the glass back on the table and turned her head slightly to look him in the eye. There was a curious spark in his green irises and a vaguely amused smile played around his lips.

"I can't imagine you having a difficult time persuading anyone." She replied in French as well, a slight chuckle escaping her lips. She knew he would understand what she was hinting at. And surely enough, the smile broke into a wide grin and the spark in his eyes turned mischievous.

" _Petite effronté.*_ " She was glad that he didn't take offense with her statement and marvelled at his smiling face. He was strikingly handsome when he smiled like that and it made him look so youthful.

" _Excusez-moi*_ , maybe you two could return back to English, please?" Isabelle's voice interrupted them and they both looked at their companions across the table. The flawless French that rolled from Isabelle's lips surprised Christine.

"I'm sorry, sometimes I forget myself." A blush rose to her cheeks as she apologized in English. She glanced sideways at her companion, who simply leaned back in his chair, still looking amused but not saying anything.

"It's alright with me, but Edward always feels left out."

"I have got used to it already, since you two seem to do it on purpose." He alternated his look between Erik and Isabelle. To Christine's amusement, the two showed no remorse whatsoever.

"Your French is flawless, where did you learn it?" Christine asked as the cook brought a deliciously looking dessert to the table. Isabelle chuckled.

"Oh no, dear. Born and raised in Amiens."

"In that case, your English is perfect. I wouldn't have known."

"Isabelle has a talent for languages." Erik spoke up, looking at the blushing woman in question. "English, French, Italian, and some German if I'm not mistaken."

"Well, you're the one to talk. And that's enough about me!" Isabelle exclaimed, laughing. "If everyone has finished their dessert, why don't we move into the living room?" There was a round of nods as everyone stood up. Christine and Erik walked side by side, a few steps behind Isabelle and Edward, who had his arm wrapped around her protectively.

"Darling, maybe you could play something for us?" Edward said to his wife, running his hand down her side to her hip and back up. Christine had to look away, for that gesture made her uncomfortable with Erik by her side.

"I would love to." Isabelle gave her husband a kiss and sat behind the piano. Edward made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs as Christine seated herself on the sofa. Erik remained standing, leaning casually against the fireplace mantle, nursing his wine glass, swirling the crimson liquid inside thoughtfully.

Isabelle started playing and Christine recognized the slow beginnings of Pachelbel's Canon in C major, one of her favourites. She chanced a look at Erik, finding him smiling softly as he listened. She wondered whether he was listening with his keen teacher's ear or whether he was simply enjoying his friend playing the piano. She closed her eyes and let herself be swept on the wave of the gentle music, letting it fill every corner of her soul once again, making her forget all her troubles.

After a while she felt someone watching her. Opening her eyes, they were immediately drawn to the figure standing across the room. Erik's piercing green eyes were indeed gazing at her but yet unseeing as he seemed lost in thought. He wasn't smiling anymore but his expression changed into a mix of different emotions. He was an incredibly complex man and she knew trying to decipher all of them could take her a lifetime. His eyes had changed during those two years; they no longer held so much contempt for the human race, nor the sadness of the world. Tonight, he was more at ease and those eyes were filled with fondness, affection and melancholy and what made her chest tighten was the longing, so intense she had to look away.

She looked over at Edward, whose eyes were closed, a small content smile on his face. Her gaze then moved to Isabelle at the piano, only to find the woman entirely engrossed in her playing. Each of them were lost in their own world and Christine had to smile, letting the music bring forward her happiest memories.

All too soon the beautiful music slowly came to an end.

"That was beautiful, Isabelle." Christine said softly.

"Splendid, my dear. You know how much I enjoy you playing." Edward praised and rose from his seat to kiss his wife.

Erik simply smiled and gave Isabelle a small nod. She beamed and Christine wondered whether they knew of Erik's musical genius. That brought many new questions to the forefront of her mind. Did he still play? Did he still compose?

"Do you think you could grace us with your singing, darling?" Edward smiled, running the back of his fingers across Isabelle's cheek lovingly.

"Of course. Although, I have a different idea." Christine sipped at her wine, completely oblivious to the look Isabelle gave her. "Anna, why don't you sing for us instead?" The question came as a complete surprise to Christine, although she had both dreaded it and yearned for it. She did want to sing again but not like this. Not in front of Erik. She didn't want him to know how much her voice had deteriorated from lack of use.

Her eyes slid from to couple at the piano to the man standing beside the fireplace. His posture had changed rapidly; he now seemed very tense, his jaw was clenched and the expression on his face echoed what she was feeling. His eyes bore to hers and she suddenly felt as if the air was sucked out of the room at once.

"Oh no, I-I couldn't possibly...It has been too long since I've sung."

"It's only the four of us, none of us will think less of you if you make a mistake." Isabelle smiled at Christine encouragingly and forced her eyes back to hers when she took both Christine's hands in hers.

"My music teacher told me to always warm up my voice before any singing."

"I agree with your music teacher, but it won't harm you just this once. He won't reprimand you, he's not here."

_Oh, if only you knew, Isabelle._ There was a sound behind her back, a soft sigh only she seemed to hear. Christine knew that by trying to sing, she would be unleashing their past into the open; every look, every word, every emotion, song, singing lesson and betrayal. She looked down at the thick carpet, trying to gather up courage. She really needed something stronger to drink than the red wine currently in her glass. She felt like she was standing in front of the managers for the first time all over again.

"I-I don't know..."

"Please, Anna."

"Okay." She agreed reluctantly with a heavy sigh, knowing it was futile to resist. Isabelle and Edward beamed at her and another sigh reached her ears, yet she didn't dare to look over her shoulder. She felt hyper-aware of his presence and his searing gaze on her back.

"Wonderful! Just pick anything you'd like, I'll accompany you on the piano." Isabelle motioned at the pile of notes sitting on top of the piano with a wave of her hand. Lifting a shaking hand to the yellowed pages, Christine quickly thumbed through them until an all too familiar title caught her eye. Would she dare sing this tonight? _If you're going to release everything from your shared past, why not do it completely?_ a voice in her head whispered as she stared intensely at the page, the notes and words already imprinted into her soul. The song was very dear to her, yet in the past it had meant a beginning of the end. Here she was again and she wondered briefly whether this was an omen for another tragic ending.

She handed the page to Isabelle and whispered to her a slight adjustment to the end of the song, as she didn't feel confident to end it in the fashion it was intended to. Isabelle smiled, a little surprised by her choice, but set her hands on the keys readily. Christine turned sideways, her hip leaning slightly against the piano. She finally gathered enough courage to look up at Erik, wondering what he'd think about her choice of song. He was staring into the hearth, but when the first notes of the piano drifted into the air, his head rose sharply.

Christine began to sing.

 

_____________  
* petite effronté - cheeky  
* excusez-moi = excuse me


	9. Dinner at McNeil's, part 2

When Isabelle asked Christine to sing, Erik froze on the spot. He didn't want to hear her sing, it would only bring back bad memories for the both of them. He wasn't sure what he'd feel if she started singing; hearing her sweet voice could send him back into the darkest recesses of his soul or it could very well be his salvation. When their eyes met, he could clearly see she was reluctant as well, a hint of apprehension in her eyes as she clasped her hands and wrung her fingers in trepidation. He recognized her lifelong nervous habit from the Opera, taken aback about how much he still remembered about her and that her new life as the Vicomtesse de Chagny wasn't able to completely erase her mannerisms.

When Isabelle took Christine's hands and turned her around, his gaze was directed at the back of her head. It was only Isabelle's remark about Christine's _teacher_ that nearly made him chuckle; instead he chose to let a wry smile touch his lips. If only she knew. He sighed, a soft sound he was sure nobody but Christine heard. He gripped his glass tightly, almost breaking the fragile stemware in a desperate attempt to keep his calm. He was tense, every muscle in his body felt stiff and his breathing quickened.

Much to his dismay, the couple finally coerced Christine into singing. He sighed again and watched as she turned the pages thoughtfully, the slight tremble of her hand betraying her false calmness. She leaned down to whisper something to Isabelle's ear as she handed her the music score. From Isabelle's expression and despite his inner conflict, he became intrigued about Christine's choice. Turning his face to stare into the hearth, the mask was the only thing he let Christine see.

When Isabelle's fingers started to flow smoothly over the piano keys, his heart nearly stopped, recognizing the song right away. _Naturally she'd choose this._ His head snapped up and looked at the woman standing beside the piano. That's when she began to sing and the ache in his chest only intensified.

_"Think of me, think of me fondly,_  
when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me once in a while,  
please promise me you'll try.  
When you find that, once again, you long  
to take your heart back and be free,  
if you ever find a moment,  
spare a thought for me." 

She was stubbornly looking everywhere but at Erik, even though he was in her direct line of vision. He wasn't surprised; the song changed its meaning tonight and was too close for comfort. He remembered her standing on the stage in front of the managers, releasing a nervous breath before captivating the entire theatre company by her voice. The prolonged neglect of her vocal chords had indeed been detrimental to her voice and Erik couldn't help but hear every imperfection. Each of those felt like a little betrayal; they had spent numerous hours practising and molding her voice to perfection only for her to throw it away in the arms of her Vicomte. Now he finally understood why she never even considered auditioning. However, even without sufficient preparation, any theatre would take her without hesitation. Christine still outshined everyone even when her voice was unused for a long time.

_"We never said our love was evergreen,_  
or as unchanging as the sea,  
but if you can still remember  
stop and think of me. 

_Think of all the things_  
we've shared and seen,  
don't think about the way things  
might have been. 

_Think of me, think of me waking,_  
silent and resigned.  
Imagine me, trying too hard  
to put you from my mind.  
Recall those days  
look back on all those times,  
think of the things we'll never do,  
there will never be a day,  
when I won't think of you." 

As she sang those wretched words, it was difficult not to think about what they had been through and what might have been had she not chosen the boy. Where would they be now?

_"Flowers fade,_  
The fruits of summer fade,  
They have their seasons, so do we  
but please promise me, that sometimes  
you will think of me." 

The song didn't reach the original crescendo at the end; instead Christine chose to end it on a soft note that seemed to echo until it vanished completely, leaving a stunned silence in its wake. Isabelle was the first to break it, fixing her wide eyed stare to the singer's face.

"I had no idea you could sing like that. Even without the practise your voice is very good."

"I concur. Like a voice of an angel." Edward interjected in awe, smiling. Erik froze momentarily, looking around him if anyone noticed his discomfort. Thankfully the couple wasn't paying attention to him but the young former soprano in front of them. He only heard her mumbled 'thank you' and saw the rising blush in her cheeks.

"Your technique is immaculate, I have seen such only in professionally trained singers. Your tutor must have been very thorough." At Isabelle's remark, Christine's eyes snapped to his. "I'd like to meet him, he seems to me like a true maestro."

"He is. The best teacher one could have." Erik nearly choked on the wine but masked it as a clearing of his throat. He never expected her to say those words, certainly not about him, and so he couldn't help but doubt her words. "Oh, I'm sorry, I never meant to offend you!" Christine put her hand on Isabelle's shoulder, clearly just now remembering the older woman was a music teacher as well.

"Oh nonsense, dear!" Isabelle laughed and the two women moved to sit on the sofa. Edward took the armchair again, while Erik remained rooted at the fireplace. His legs felt like lead. "I wonder, though, with your voice and proper training, you could easily become a diva in any theatre in the world. The Savoy is always looking for new talents, maybe you could audition. Erik?" Isabelle's green eyes settled on him and he was at a loss. What he could say to that, really? He was saved from reply when Christine spoke up, clearly unsettled by the turn of the conversation.

"Oh no, I couldn't. It's not for me. I do like the theatre and opera, but merely as a spectator." She gave him a cursory glance, trying to judge his reaction to her lie.

"Such a shame. If you like the theatre so much, Anna, maybe you'd like to accompany Erik to the grand opening at the Savoy in a week's time?" Edward chimed in and Erik closed his eyes momentarily, rubbing the exposed part of his forehead with his fingers in frustration. As if hearing her sing wasn't bad enough idea, visiting the theatre with her on his arm would be a disaster. He should have known that pretending not to know each other would never work. They had been through too much for both of them to simply just not care. This whole escort affair was a bad idea, what had possessed him to go for an escort service?

He dared to look at Christine, who was watching him silently, her face showing neither acquiescence nor refusal of this notion. He let out a long breath and his gaze settled on Edward's smiling face. There was a certain mischief in the older man's expression and Erik narrowed his eyes. He really should stop his friend from meddling with his life, especially where Christine was concerned.

"Oh yes, Anna, you must! I'm accompanying my husband, so it would be wonderful to have someone to talk to. I cannot stand the wives of these aristocrats. They are all so snobby, condescending and their only favourite past time is gossiping." Erik took a sip of the wine, hiding his wry smile in the glass. If only Isabelle knew she was talking with one of the French aristocracy! However, he knew that Christine would never be like one of _those_ women, it wasn't in her nature as she hadn't been born into that world.

"Isabelle!" Edward exclaimed in a mock shock but winked at her, grinning.

"I'm only saying what everyone here is thinking. And I absolutely cannot stand the way these fat hens look at Erik, like he is some sort of _viande juteuse_ *." Erik chuckled at Isabelle's overt indignation and walked to the sofa, gently placing his palm upon her shoulder. From the corner of his eye, he saw Christine trying to suppress her laughter, while Edward just sat there, confused by the foreign words coming out of his wife's mouth.

"You should not get so upset, Isabelle. Those people will never change."

"I know." She sighed and then smiled at Christine, who managed to get her chuckling under control. "Will you please come? You will save Edward from a miserable wife and Erik from being hounded by those women."

"How can I say no to that?" Christine smiled widely, first at Isabelle and Edward and then at Erik. He acknowledged her with an upwards quirk of his lips. The mood between them shifted slightly, it was no longer as uncomfortable as before.

He had to admit that despite the worry about this outing, he was grateful as well, for he really loathed those women. Isabelle was correct with her statements, even with the way those women behaved around him. It really was a wonder how wealth and fame could make people look past the mask, yet not care about the person wearing it. There was a small 'hmmm' sound behind him and he spun around, only to see Edward with a thoughtful look on his face, staring into space. Erik's eyebrow arched high as he watched his friend. Suddenly his confused brown eyes snapped to Erik's as he asked with all seriousness.

"Did my wife just swear?"

The laughter of the three other people echoed around the vast house.

_____________  
* viande juteuse = juicy meat


	10. Carriage ride back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The couple returns from the dinner at McNeil's.

"Thank you for inviting me, I had a wonderful time." Christine smiled at the couple as they prepared to leave. Since Edward's remark the evening had gone smoothly, each of them having a good time.

"It was a pleasure to have you both." Isabelle smiled and to Christine's surprise drew her into a friendly embrace. Erik helped her with her cloak and there was a brief moment of awkwardness when Edward came back with Erik's gloves, not knowing who to hand them to and his gaze darted back and forth between him and Christine. Isabelle unknowingly decided for him as she went to embrace Erik tightly. Edward discreetly handed the gloves to Christine with a cheeky wink and she bit her lip, blushing.

"I will see you both at the Savoy in a week's time, correct?" Isabelle kissed Erik's cheek as she withdrew.

"You will. Take care of yourself." He smiled at her tenderly, then looked back at his companion. She was not looking directly at him but somewhere along his middle and glancing down he realized his hand was safely tucked in Isabelle's on her growing belly. Her eyes snapped to his and there was a brief flash of confusion and jealousy in their brown depths. What was she thinking?

"I will see you on the morrow, Erik." Edward exchanged a smile with Erik. "The Baron asked for some minor adjustments at the facade and he'd like to hear your opinion on his ideas."

"Very well. I will be in my office." They finally bid their farewell to the couple and climbed into the carriage. As the door shut, the driver turned the horses around and set out on the journey again, the click of the horses' hooves echoing in the night.

While the atmosphere at the villa was calm and friendly, now that they were alone in the enclosed dark space the air felt tense, heavy. For some reason Erik felt on edge; a strange feeling he didn't like. He focused on the darkened road outside the window while being very much aware of Christine's eyes on him. He sensed she wanted to say something, but he stayed silent and waited. It wasn't long before she broke the silence.

"I'm sorry." His eyes turned slowly, lazily, from the road to her face. Erik didn't know why she was apologizing. He schooled his face into impassiveness and looked back outside.

"Whatever for?" If she was surprised or angered by his lack of emotion, she didn't show it. He could feel her eyes still on his profile, unwavering.

"My voice." Bewildered, he turned his head to face her fully.

"Do not apologize to me, I respect your choice not to sing anymore. It is not my place to judge." The lie flowed through his mouth almost effortlessly. In reality, he blamed himself. If he hadn't been so jealous and obsessive, maybe she'd still be the diva at Opera Populaire. Maybe the building itself would not rot in ruins as it was now.

"It is not that." She interrupted vehemently, a strange expression passing over her face. "It was not my decision." Erik's eyebrow quirked. Was the Vicomte responsible? Had he forbidden her to sing? He watched as sadness overtook her features and waited for her to elaborate, trying to cease his rising temper. "I had no desire to sing. The music just left me after...." She paused, her brows furrowing. "After I was told you were dead." After that confession she maintained eye contact with Erik only briefly, turning her head to look outside the window as he had been moments ago.

He wasn't surprised that she had been told this; it was the admission of her own inability to sing after she had been deceived that took him aback. Erik himself had no desire to sing or compose music since he had left Paris. The only creative outlets for him since then had been architecture and ownership of the Savoy theatre. A strange feeling of hope expanded in his chest at her confession and he pushed it back forcefully, determined not to go down that road again.

"You were told? By the boy, I presume?" She glanced at him briefly and nodded. "I am not surprised. He would have done anything to make you compliant to quick nuptials." He snarled, no longer being able to suppress his anger. Her head whipped around and she gasped in indignation at his audacity.

He knew it was cruel to talk about her deceased husband like that, but the mere mention of him made his blood boil, for his name stood for the things he had lost. Erik was no fool; he knew much of the blame lay with his own wrongdoings but he could not help wondering what could have been had the young handsome Vicomte never become the patron of the Opera house. Wooing Christine with his handsome face and pretty talk of their childhood memories after he had recognized her on stage, singing the very same song as she had tonight.

Still, he felt no remorse about his once rival's passing.

"That was cruel." As she folded her arms in front of her chest, he noted that her hands were once again wrapped in his gloves. He squashed the warm budding feeling in his chest; though his anger was still there, it had somewhat abated. He watched her as she met his gaze unflinchingly. There she was sitting across from him, her chin held up, a defiant spark in her eyes; a definite sign that she had indeed matured into a strong woman. He said nothing; instead he just watched her trying to fight the inner turmoil. "I learned the truth only recently, shortly before he..." She trailed off and looked outside, her jaw clenched tightly, her eyelashes fluttering as she tried to fight back tears.

His eyes softened and the remains of his anger slowly vanished. While he felt nothing at the Vicomte's death, Christine's pain didn't leave him emotionless. He hated that it caused her so much grief; as if she hadn't been through so much suffering before and yes, even the one he had caused himself.

"Nevertheless, your voice is nothing that cannot be salvaged. With the proper training, of course." He changed the subject abruptly, trying to raise her spirits. She looked up at him again but remained silent for the rest of their journey, gazing thoughtfully from the small window.

The carriage slowly came to a halt in front of the Duchess and Erik sighed quietly. Despite their argument earlier, he enjoyed their evening and her company. It was obvious his friends liked her and he was glad, though not surprised, that Isabelle took a liking to the younger woman immediately.

"Thank you for the evening, it was lovely." Christine spoke up at last, a hint of smile playing on her lips but her eyes seemed to hold a mix of sadness and anger. He began to rise from his seat but she held up her hand to stop him. "No, please sit. I will manage myself." As the driver opened the door, Christine rose and Erik opened his mouth to protest, but she gave him a hard look that surprised even him with its vehemence. "I will see you in a week's time. Goodnight, Erik." Her reply was slightly standoffish and she quickly exited the carriage.

"Goodnight." He said to the empty space, watching as she walked to the building without a backwards glance. Walking through the front garden, she seemed to stop suddenly and looked quickly around, her brow furrowed. Her pace quickened considerably until she was safe behind the front door. Erik was confused and a little bit worried about her behavious and cursed himself for not being more insistent, letting her go alone even the short distance from the main road. Shaking his head, he tapped the roof and the carriage set to motion again.

Sighing loudly, he slid forward in his seat and closed his eyes, slouching comfortably to relax his tense muscles. He let his arms fall freely to his sides and that's when he felt it. Running his fingers along the material, he suddenly recognized the cold leather of his gloves.

 

* * *

 

As Christine walked the short distance from the main road to the front entrance of the Duchess, the conversation with Erik in the carriage replayed over and over in her head. A strange sound brought her back into awareness and she realized it sounded very much like footsteps rustling through the fallen leaves. She stopped walking. Her brow furrowed as she looked around the dark front garden but didn't see anyone who could have made that noise.

From the corner of her eye she saw the carriage still there, a white shape floating behind the window in the darkness. Despite her predicament she smiled, thankful that he stayed watching from afar to make sure she got home safely and cursing herself at the same time for refusing his company. When she heard the sound again, her feet carried her quickly along the paved walkway, her heart in her throat. She fumbled with the key Amelia gave her and with a sigh of relief it slid smoothly into the lock. Hurriedly, she opened the door and darted inside the dimly lit ante-chamber, turning back to quickly scan the front garden. She saw nothing, only the dark carriage still along the main road. She quickly shut the door, willing her heart to stop beating so quickly.

She was safe now.


	11. Interlude

Christine slowly ascended the stairs, her mind still reeling over the entire evening. After silence had befallen her and Erik in the carriage, she had thought about what he had said. Could he be right about Raoul? That question still lingered on her mind even now as she neared her room. It was still well before midnight and she vaguely heard feminine giggles echoing from some of the rooms, knowing that the other escort girls liked to spend their evenings with each other if they were not entertaining a client. On light feet she scurried to her room, letting out a long sigh after the door closed behind her.

She shuffled over to the bed and sat down heavily, her mind spinning with questions. Why had she never thought about it after Raoul's death? Since his confession that Erik was in fact very much alive, she had not wondered why he had lied to her. Now that since Erik made that remark, it was all she could think about. Why? Why would he tell her that her Angel was dead? Had it been simply because he had wanted to forget about her teacher entirely? No, she knew that it couldn't have been the reason; he must have known that it wouldn't have the desired effect, but much the opposite.

How could she ever forget him? He had chased away the loneliness after her father's passing and became her friend and teacher. She had never realized it back at the Opera, but he knew and understood from the start what she had been going through. No one else would understand. Not her dear friend Meg or her mother, bless them. Never Raoul, for he had never lived in need. Even though she had been foolish to believe Erik has truly been an angel, something drew her to him. Perhaps it was his own loneliness, maybe she had sensed a kindred spirit back then. She suspected that deep down Raoul had sensed their strange connection and now she knew it was a bond that could never be severed. Weakened, yes, but never completely gone.

Had Erik been right? Had Raoul wanted her to marry him quickly, lest the Phantom changed his mind and claimed what had been his? That fateful night of Don Juan she had made her decision. She could not let her Angel kill Raoul and had he not ordered them to leave, she would have stayed. What would become of her by Erik's side? Christine reached to her bedside table and pulled open the drawer, extracting her diary. She looked at the worn book and its yellowed pages, running the tips of her fingers along the edge. It fell open where the dried rose and the photo of her dear father lay together since she had fled the Chagny estate. She gently touched her father's features, recalling him in her mind's eye, playing the violin for her. Then she picked up the rose carefully, rising it to her face. Even dried the rose had retained some of its sweet smell. She ran her fingers along the black ribbon around its stem. The same rose with the same ribbon that Madame Giry had handed her after her debut in Hannibal. A drop of moisture fell on the dark red petals and once Christine realized, the tears just came down harder until her vision was blurry.

Why couldn't things go the way they were before? She wished to be back at the Opera Populaire, dancing, singing and having fun with Meg with Madame Giry scolding them for their behaviour. Back to the Opera, even with La Carlotta there, and the invisible rule of the Phantom, who was making the diva's life miserable with his many pranks. She wanted her Angel to be there, dry her tears and tell her everything was going to be alright. She cried harder as happy memories faded into the darker ones.

It was then that the door flew open to reveal grinning Elizabeth. Christine looked up and the smile on Elizabeth's face dropped quickly. She shut the door behind her and rushed over to the young soprano, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Anna? What happened?" Christine just shook her head, trying unsuccessfully to stop her tears. "Did he do something to you? Answer me, Anna! Did he do anything?" Elizabeth insisted.

"No!" Christine exclaimed incredulously and Elizabeth was surprised by the vehemence in which the word was spoken, as if Elizabeth was crazy for even suggesting it. She studied the younger woman and noticed the diary and rose in her hands. At once Elizabeth realized what could be troubling her. Christine just kept looking at the rose, feeling a little angered at Elizabeth's presumption. Raoul's voice from a couple of weeks ago echoed in her head.

_I knew he would never hurt you...He will keep you safe...._

"He would never hurt me." She whispered, knowing with all her being that it was true.

"Anna?" Elizabeth tried but Christine was unresponsive, twirling the rose between her fingers. She took a deep breath. "Christine?" A pair of brown eyes locked with hers and the pain she saw there made her heart clench. "Does he remind you of...your husband?" The surprise was evident on Christine's face at Elizabeth's question. Her brows furrowed as she pondered the question.

"Yes." She said finally. How could he not? Both men were so entangled in her life that she couldn't think of Raoul without thinking about Erik. "But not the way you think." Christine tucked the rose back into her diary and closed it, returning it to its place in her bedside table. Wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, she sniffed. "I'm sorry. It's just..." She trailed off, not knowing how to explain.

"That's alright. We all have skeletons in our closets." Elizabeth winked at her and grinned, trying to lift Christine's spirits. A small smile touched her lips at the truth in Elizabeth's words.

***

Two days later, Christine sat with Elizabeth in the dining room, enjoying their breakfast when Amelia stepped into the room, the smile on her face ever present.

"Anna, there was something for you in the post box." Christine looked up at her employer in surprise and then at the thick large envelope in her arms.

"Who is it from?"

"It doesn't say. There's no return address, nor any delivery address. Just your name." Amelia's smile widened and she winked at Christine. "Someone must have brought it personally." A rosy blush spread across Christine's cheeks. "Here you go, darling." Amelia handed her the envelope and Christine was surprised by how heavy it actually was. She studied the handwritten letters thoughtfully after Amelia left. She had forgotten the style of Erik's handwriting, for she had only glanced at it every now and then. The notes from the Opera Ghost were handled by Madame Giry and the managers, so now she had no way of knowing, but hoped that it was from Erik.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Elizabeth looked at her curiously, eating a morsel of pancake from her fork. "It may be a gift from Mr. Garnier." Christine hoped that it was the case, for she didn't know anyone who knew her by this name except Erik and his friends. Taking a deep breath, she gently pried the taped envelope open and reached inside.. As her fingers closed around the object, she could feel its leather casing. Pulling the item out carefully, she realized it was a large leather-bound notebook. There were no markings in the brown material to give away the notebook's contents. Elizabeth watched Christine as she studied the cover, taking her time in revealing what was inside.

"What is it?" She asked, feeling giddy with anticipation, her eyes darting over the exquisite leather cover. Christine took a breath and slowly opened it, only to find dozens of music scores inside. She gasped, quickly scanning all the different types of songs, ranging from easy to difficult, from opera arias to folk songs. A genuine smile graced her lips and strange warmth settled in her chest.

"Is that music? Anna, do you play?"

"A bit. I enjoy singing more."

"I can't believe Amelia has never shown you! We have a music room, come, follow me!" Elizabeth quickly stood up from her chair, the rest of her breakfast promptly forgotten as she dashed down the hallway to the back of the house. Christine smiled and hurried after her, keeping the leather notebook close to her chest. Despite her and Erik's last conversation, he had sent her these. Warmth settled in the center of her chest and spread into her extremities, tinging her cheeks a soft shade of pink.

The music room was small but cozy, the black grand pianoforte dominating the whole room from the alcove near the large windows facing the back garden. There was a small living room seating set, a small fireplace for cold nights and dozens of music scores lying on every possible surface. There was a glassed-in cupboard on one wall and Christine could see a selection of flutes.

Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, doing a little twirl, beaming at Christine.

"Voila! What do you think?"

"It's so lovely!"

"You can use it anytime you wish. I'm going to leave you now, I have to prepare for another outing with Andrew."

"Thank you, Beth." Christine smiled gratefully at Elizabeth, who merely nodded and offered a smile in return.

"You're welcome, dear." With that, she closed the door and Christine was alone. She walked timidly over to the piano and sat down on the cushioned seat and flipped the music book open. Her mind still went over the conversation with Erik and now this... Did he think she still could become a diva? Was this his way of telling her she still had the voice to do it? Did he want her to try it again? All these questions didn't leave her for the remainder of the day she spent in the music room, idly plucking on the piano keys or singing softly to herself.

***

Three days later, Christine tended to the reception area per Amelia's request, who had to run some errands in the city in the morning. Elizabeth had spent the night at the Baron's residence, therefore she couldn't help Christine as she usually was the one who dealt with customers and newcomers alike in Amelia's absence.

The bell above the door jingled merrily and a gentleman in blue and red clothes entered. Christine immediately recognized the uniform of a postman and smiled pleasantly at the gentleman.

"Good day, sir. Can I help you?" She asked the newcomer, much more comfortable and confident in her English than when she had arrived here.

"Good day, Miss. I have a package for Miss Anna Renaud. If you'd be so kind to forward it..." Christine perked up at the sound of her new name and looked at the wrapped box in his hands.

"Of course, Sir. You can leave it right here and I will make sure Miss Renaud gets it."

"Thank you. Good day!" He placed the box on the desk between them and with a smile he hurried out the front door, his mail bag trailing after him. Christine didn't even bother with a reply and studied the box with a strange feeling of giddiness warming her chest.

***

"You have been staring at the box for the last twenty minutes." Elizabeth stated with a frown, looking at Christine, whose gaze was transfixed by the mysterious box. "It's been sitting here, unopened, since I came back a few hours ago. Aren't you at least a bit curious?"

"Of course I am! I'm just...nervous, I guess."

"Nervous? Why ever for?" Christine just shrugged and sighed. "If you're not going to open it soon, I will. I'm willing to bet that your Mr. Garnier had sent this. Your next outing is tomorrow evening." Elizabeth didn't need to remind her of that fact. Butterflies danced in her belly whenever she thought about it.

"Okay, I will open it." With a deep breath she began peeling off the brown wrapping paper and then opened the box itself. The contents were shielded by a white soft fabric. Lifting it and draping it around one edge of the box, Christine gasped as it revealed what lay underneath. Royal blue silk filled her vision and she grasped the fabric gently, lifting it out of the box. Elizabeth's gasp was audible as she pulled the dress out in its entirety and hanged it on an empty hanger left on her bed. Christine hooked the hanger carefully at the closet's door. She took two steps back and nearly collided with open-mouthed Elizabeth, who had the mind to step aside quickly.

"That dress is _exquisite_." She breathed but Christine didn't think that word described the dress in front of her sufficiently. It was off the shoulder dress with shiny beads creating flower patterns over the bodice and scattered sparsely down the whole length of the skirt. At first look the dress seemed simple but the longer she looked at it, the more all the little details jumped out at her, like the delicate embroidery on the bodice under the beads.

While Christine admired the level of detail on her new dress, Elizabeth reached into the box and pulled out a pair of matching shoes and a smaller box, which she handed to Christine. She gently pried it open and her eyes widened. Inside lay a set of necklace and earrings matching the evening dress. The necklace was made out of diamonds shaped into flowers, with a sapphire in the center of each little flower.

"Oh Anna, I absolutely _cannot_ wait to see you wear all this." Christine fingered the delicate necklace, biting her lower lip as excitement filled her whole body. "It seems Mr. Garnier doesn't do anything by half." Elizabeth grinned at her knowingly and she hid a wry smile.

_You have no idea._   



	12. Preparations

The day of her outing started no differently than the others. After socializing with her fellow girls at breakfast, Christine found a hideout in the music room, thumbing through her new music book. After going through the scales as Erik taught her so long ago, she went over a few arias. She didn't even realize how much she was enjoying it until she finished on a high note with a wide smile, collapsing on the piano stool out of breath. Inside she felt elated - the music had finally returned to her!

Turning her attention to the ivory keys, she played an easy tune, getting lost in the memories of her childhood and how she first came into the Opera Populaire. Her fingers stopped moving briefly as she relived all the moments which had led her to this very moment. Christine had never thought to compose anything; she felt inferior to all these wonderful composers and her teacher was one of them. But as the sun streamed through the window on the piano keys and her hands, she found herself trying out various note combinations until the slow tune sounded good to her ears. She played it over and over again when suddenly the words came to her, so clearly without her even trying. She sang them quietly, testing each word, each note, to find that perfect pitch.

She completely lost track of time and never noticed Elizabeth entering quietly several hours later, watching the younger woman play and sing from the doorway.

_"On the first page of our story,_  
the future seemed so bright,  
then this thing turned out so evil,  
I don't know why I'm still surprised. 

_Even angels have their wicked schemes_  
and you take that to new extremes,  
but you'll always be my hero,  
even though you've lost your mind." 

Christine paused, her hand hovering over the keys. That's when Elizabeth finally spoke up, taking the opportunity when Christine mused over the next notes and words.

"That was beautiful." Christine turned sharply in surprise at the intruder and relaxed when she found her friend standing in the doorway with a smile on her face. She blushed at the praise and smiled. "Have you been sitting here since breakfast?"

"I have. Am I needed?"

"Well, yes. You skipped lunch and you have to get prepared for your outing tonight." Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow teasingly, letting out a chuckle when Christine's eyes widened as the realization dawned. She had been so engrossed in her playing that she had completely forgot about time.

"Oh! Will you please help me prepare, Elizabeth?"

"Of course, darling. You needn't ask." Chuckling, she led the young soprano out of the music room and gently steered her in the direction of the dinner room.

 

* * *

 

After lunch, Elizabeth urged her to relax and take a bath to prepare for the evening. The bath had been a marvellous idea and she spent a long time in the deliciously warm bubbly tub until the water went cold and the skin on her fingertips wrinkled. With a content sigh she stepped out, dried her hair and wrapped a fluffy robe around her. Christine went back to her bedroom, not surprised to see Elizabeth already waiting for her, lounging comfortably in an armchair.

"Did you have a good bath?" Elizabeth gave her a smirk, an amused spark lighting her eyes as she hinted at the unholy time Christine spent in the bathroom. Christine fought a blush and nodded, taking her bloomers and chemise with her behind the changing screen. "That's good. You need to be squeaky clean for your Mr. Garnier, just in case..." Elizabeth trailed off, unaware of her friend rolling her eyes from behind the screen. Christine pulled on her bloomers and chemise, stepping out to stand in front of her vanity. Elizabeth walked up behind her and began lacing her corset.

"I was surprised to hear that Baron Marshall won't be attending the premiere tonight." Christine caught Elizabeth's eyes in the mirror and winked. "I have heard that he is a great supporter of the arts."

"Indeed he is. He has even been considering a patronage over the Savoy theatre. Unfortunately thanks to his business trip to Wales, he can't attend tonight." Elizabeth sighed and Christine watched her friend's reflection in the mirror. She seemed disappointed, sad even.

"You miss him." There was a sudden hard tug on her corset laces as Elizabeth gave her a look at her presumption.

"In a way." Elizabeth paused, devious glint in her eyes as she looked at Christine in the mirror, waggling her eyebrows. "I miss the sex." She offered nonchalantly and watched with growing amusement as Christine's eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. Elizabeth laughed and finished lacing the corset, handing her the box with the exquisite jewellery. "Darling, you need to loosen up. You are not a blushing maid anymore. You are a confident, mature lady with her own needs and desires."

" _Nevertheless_ , it's a shame you cannot attend. I'm curious to meet him." Christine smiled and fastened the earrings quickly, trying desperately to change the subject.

"You shall. Quite soon, I believe." Surprised, Christine turned around.

"What do you mean?"

"I have found out Andrew will be moving residences soon. His new mansion was designed by no other than your Mr. Garnier." Christine had noticed that Elizabeth more often than not referred to Erik as 'hers'. She knew the older woman was just teasing her, yet she could not help thinking about that simple word.

Back in Paris, she could have called him hers, for he had been very devoted only to her and their music, wanted to make her happy and live the life she had always dreamed of with him by her side. Yet sometimes his devotion bordered dangerously with unhealthy obsession. But now..., now he was different. The creature of darkness had stepped into the light at last, trying to find his way back into humanity and learning to live as any other man. She _was_ proud to see him succeed. But he had a new life now, in which she had no permanent place in. And that knowledge hurt more than anything.

"So to celebrate this event, Andrew will be hosting a ball at his new residence in a few days." Elizabeth continued, unaware of Christine's inner turmoil.

She wondered why she always slipped to this mood and this line of thinking about Erik whenever she was preparing for her next outing. She let a small smile touch her lips, feeling butterflies in her stomach at the thought of yet another outing. A ball! It had been too long since she last attended a ball, for during her marriage to Raoul, she and her husband attended only dinner parties either their own or hosted by Raoul's friends. _That would make the masquerade ball the last such event I attended._ The smile on her face slightly waned as she remembered the occasion. She inhaled sharply and pushed those memories back.

"Do you think Erik will take me to the ball?"

"What kind of question is that?" Elizabeth raised her brow and looked at her as if she had grown two heads. "You are his escort, darling. Moreover, he is required to attend and I don't think he will risk getting hounded by those upper-class women if he can prevent it. They are like vultures." Christine chuckled lightly as she recalled a very similar comment by Isabelle, almost identical to the indignant expression on her face. "You can try asking him tonight." Elizabeth shrugged and reached for the royal blue dress.

"I'm so jealous of you, Anna. Such a wonderful dress! I can't wait to see how it looks on you. Shall we?"

"By all means." Christine giggled and let Elizabeth help her with dressing. The dress felt very comfortable on her skin, unlike the heavy and scratchy dresses she had to wear as a Vicomtess. Those beautiful dresses were befitting for a lady of her title, but she had never felt comfortable in them. This one was something different; she had never felt such quality silk before and she wondered where Erik had acquired it. She looked down at the flowing skirt, smoothing her hands along the material while being careful about the various bead applications scattered on it. Elizabeth stepped backwards, so she could see Christine entirely, and small frown appeared on her face. Christine feared it did not look as good on her as she had thought.

"Something is missing." Elizabeth bit her lip and then spotted the open velvet box at the vanity behind Christine's back. She smiled in triumph and gently lifted the beautiful necklace. "I know! Let me put this on." She fastened the jewellery around Christine's neck and stepped back once again to view the final result.

"Oh." She breathed and Christine could see a mix of emotions on her face. Before she had a chance to ask, Elizabeth gently grasped her shoulders and turned her around, so she could look in the mirror. "Look."

Christine did as asked and her jaw dropped slightly as she got a first glance at herself in her reflection. The dress was perfect in every way, the deep blue complementing the auburn of her hair and the jewellery delicate and not too gaudy. Just now she noticed Elizabeth had laced her corset a bit differently, which pushed up her breasts a bit more. Nothing too scandalous or inappropriate but just noticeable enough.

"Your Mr. Garnier surely does have an eye for this. It's perfect." Christine did not doubt that and knew that was why Erik chose it in the first place. "And now your hair!" Elizabeth urged her to sit at the vanity before she got to work, deciding on a loose updo. She finished Christine's hair swiftly and applied a small bit of makeup on her face. Giving herself a last look in the mirror, Christine smiled at her friend in thanks, pulling on her long white opera gloves.

"Anna, Mr. Garnier is here!" Amelia called from downstairs and once again her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She let out a long breath. Elizabeth, sensing her nervousness, took Christine's cloak and linked her arm with hers.

"Come on. No sense in prolonging the inevitable." She winked and was delighted by the smile on Christine's face in response. Together they walked arm in arm through the hall and began descending the staircase. "I'm glad I'm not attending the opera tonight after all."

"Why is that?"

"You will outshine everyone." They laughed together as they came to the bottom of the stairs. Amelia was watching their entrance with a smile and Christine's eyes immediately darted to the figure dressed in black standing next to her employer. She had expected him to wait for her in the carriage, that way she could try to calm herself before they met again. Last time they had parted on an unpleasant note and she didn't know how to act towards him. But now that he was standing in the antechamber, all thoughts fled from her mind at once. She felt a hand on the small of her back urging her forward and made a mental note to thank Elizabeth later. With Elizabeth's words from earlier echoing in her head, she held herself confidently as she walked over to them, her eyes never leaving Erik.

His hands were clasped behind his back as he stood tall and straight in his customary black opera clothes. To her surprise he was wearing a royal blue vest with black stitching under his jacket, matching her gown perfectly. His face was schooled into a neutral expression but then she noticed a slight upward quirk of his mouth. Silently she cursed God for giving him the most striking eyes she had ever seen. Their blue-green depths were piercing and Christine felt like he could see inside her head and read her very soul.

It felt like minutes before she reached her destination, but in reality it was no more than a few seconds.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Renaud." He greeted her in French, touching his lips to the back of her gloved hand before acknowledging Elizabeth in English. "Miss Elizabeth."

"Good evening, Monsieur."

"Good evening, sir." Elizabeth replied and, to Christine's shock, blushed deeply. Christine reached for her cloak in Elizabeth's arms, fighting a grin when her still blushing friend whispered: "You lucky girl." Before she could put the cloak on, a pair of strong hands in white gloves stopped her, giving her a welcome assistance.

"We shall be going now. Ladies, have a nice evening." Erik bid them goodbye and offered his arm to Christine, who took it without a moment's hesitation. She looked back at Amelia and Elizabeth, who were both wearing matching smiles, and gave them a smile in return.

Just before the door shut behind them, she caught a glimpse of Elizabeth winking at her cheekily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hairdo and jewellery for Christine was inspired by Emmy Rossum's a the Oscars a few years back. Pic for reference: http://oi41.tinypic.com/wrfm1e.jpg. She wore ruby jewellery and gown, so I had to paint it blue. :)


	13. The Opera, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Savoy theatre looked like this in 1881 when it was built: http://tinyurl.com/6r4njuf It was the first public building lit entirely by electricity. All the knowledge I used of the theatre was taken from Wikipedia. :)

As the carriage came to a halt in front of the Duchess, Erik contemplated all that had happened since meeting Christine in London and the events that were about to follow. They had parted in a rather cold manner the last time and he was unsure how to act once they were face to face again. Whether she liked it or not, he had not said anything he hadn't meant.

While he could have talked to her in less cruel way, Erik found that he had not changed that much after all. Yes, he now walked among people and made himself a living by legal means, but he was still the same man as he had been in Paris. Though softened a bit by the presence of Edward and Isabelle in his life, he still had bouts of temper and general distrust of people. He found that people were less likely to comment on his eccentric persona if he were well respected, of considerable wealth and talent, and used this knowledge wisely.

Erik sighed, at last exiting the carriage and walking the short distance to the front door. He didn't want Christine to walk alone, especially since last week she had seemed rather distraught as she walked the paved walkway as he did now. His sharp eye scanned his surroundings, trying to determine what could have scared her so. With one last look behind him, he opened the door and entered.

Amelia was tending to the reception and looked up when she heard the door open, a delighted smile lighting her face as she spotted him.

"Good evening, Mr. Garnier."

"Good evening. How are you this evening?" He greeted, obliged to make a small talk; one of the things Isabelle and Edward had taught him, even though he still preferred to remain silent.

"Very well, thank you." Erik gave her a small nod and a soft smile and clasped his hands behind his back as Amelia walked to the bottom of the stairs and called for Christine. She returned by his side and gave him a smile. "Your theatre is beautiful, sir. Both inside and out. I had been to see Hannibal last year. Spectacular, if I may say."

"Thank you, Mrs. Durant." Anything further he wanted to say was cut short as they heard female laughter echoing down the staircase. Amelia just looked at him with a smile and gave a little shrug. Soon the women were at the bottom of the stairs, their laugh slowly dying down, leaving a smile on their faces.

Erik swallowed as his eyes locked with the brown ones of his escort. Christine was a vision in the royal blue silk he had chosen for her, and the smile she wore only completed the whole look. He would not deny; she was breathtaking. She approached him slowly, her eyes never leaving his until she was standing in front of him. He took her gloved hand gently and placed a small kiss on the back of it.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Renaud." He slipped into French easily, his eyes sliding from hers to the woman behind her. "Miss Elizabeth."

"Good evening, Monsieur." Christine replied in kind, smiling at him gently. There wasn't any trace of the previous anger in her expression.

"Good evening, sir." Elizabeth replied and Erik's eyebrow rose as he took note of her cheeks turning crimson. From the corner of his eye he saw Christine bite her lip to keep herself from smiling as she went over to her friend for her cloak. Ever the gentleman, his gloved hands stopped Christine as she was about to pull the cloak on, and helped her with it, receiving a smile in thanks.

"We shall be going now. Ladies, have a nice evening." He bid them goodbye and offered his arm to Christine. To his delight, she accepted without hesitation and linked her arm with his as they walked out of the building.

"You are well, I trust?" Erik was not one for small talk, but he could not help it, his eyes on their surroundings rather than on the young woman by his side. He could sense her looking at his profile, the unmasked portion of his face closest to her.

"I am, thank you. And yourself?"

"I am well." There was a slight pause as the wind picked up and rustled the leaves under their feet. Christine seemed rather tense on his arm and shifted almost imperceptibly closer to Erik, as if she were afraid. It was not unlike the night he had dropped her off here last week and he frowned slightly. "Is something amiss?" He asked at last.

"Last week when I walked back home I thought I heard footsteps in the leaves. It was rather startling but I think it was just an animal. I have seen some squirrels around here recently." She tried to brush it off with a small self-reproachful laugh but Erik's senses sharpened. He knew the human mind could interpret certain sounds in different ways but yet he had observed that usually the first impression was the closest. He didn't take her observation lightly and his eyes scanned the small front garden quickly as he helped Christine into the carriage, climbing after her when he was sure there was no one lurking around the building.

"The Duchess is in one of the safest districts of London. It was probably an animal, as you said." His lips quirked in silent mollification and she smiled and nodded in relief. He would never mention to her the footsteps he had heard briefly before climbing into the carriage.

As the carriage took off, the two occupants sat there in silence, listening to the horse's hooves click on the cobblestones.

"I would like to apologize." Erik began and Christine's eyes left the passing streets to look into her companion's green eyes in surprise. "My behaviour last time was improper. I have no right speaking to a young widow like that. I apologize." To his surprise, Christine gave him a smile and nodded.

"Thank you, although I suspect you didn't say anything you didn't mean." She glanced at him and although he didn't give any outward reaction to her assumption, she knew she was right. "However, I'd like to ask you to not think of me as such. I have been thinking about it and I would prefer if we didn't acknowledge the past and any previous association." His visible eyebrow lifted and he had to suppress a wry smile at the formality of her speech and wondered how long she had been preparing it. Nevertheless, he was actually glad she made the first step, for he had wanted to suggest the same tonight.

"Very well." He inclined his head and let a small smile touch his lips. She nodded in satisfaction and the rest of the journey was spent in silence. The Savoy theatre was situated in the heart of London in Westminster, so it took only about ten minutes to get there. Once the carriage came into a halt, Erik exited and helped his companion get out of the vehicle. He allowed Christine a few moments as she gazed at the brightly lit exterior of the building.

"It's beautiful. I must admit I have never seen a building lit so brightly. How did you accomplish that?"

"Electricity." Erik replied enigmatically, giving her a wink as he once again offered his arm to her. She gave him a curious look and took his arm as they entered the theatre lobby. "Both the exterior and interior are powered by electricity. It's much safer than the gaslights and it does not create any heat or foul air. I find the resulting light is more visually appealing." He gently steered her towards the cloakroom and only smiled when she reached into her purse for a tip. He reached out and placed his hand over hers. "There is no need for that."

"What do you mean?"

"We have a no tipping policy on most services through the theatre."

"Really?" She smiled, pleasantly surprised at this innovation. She let Erik help her with the cloak before shedding his own, pocketing the two small paper tickets in his suit jacket. He led her back into the lobby, where people greeted him with a nod of their heads and a polite smile. "What other innovations did you introduce?"

"We have numbered seats to prevent the audience from running around like headless chicken." Christine let out a small laugh and he smiled wryly as he remembered some of the commotion at the Paris Opera. A young man in attendant's uniform approached them with a smile.

"Mr. Garnier, it's pleasure to see you again. Programme for your lady?" Erik smiled and nodded, turning his head to look at Christine, who was taking it all in with wide eyes. The attendant carefully lifted the programme from a stack of booklets held in his other hand and handed it to Christine, who accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you." She said shyly and the young man smiled at her before looking back at Erik.

"Thank you, Daniel." He nodded and darted off to the next newcomer as Erik saw Christine's half-attempt to stop the young boy. He didn't need to guess what she wanted to do and smiled to himself as she began speaking, raising one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

"Wait, I didn't-"

"Another innovation. Free programme booklets." He interrupted her and gave her a smile, which she readily responded to. There was a brief moment of silence between them as they looked at each other. He leaned almost unnoticeably closer to her, so others would not hear him. "You do look stunning tonight." His voiced observation resulted in a slight blush in her cheeks as she bit her lower lip. She truly was a vision in the royal blue silk gown he had chosen for her.

"I have not thanked you properly. It was most rude of me. I thank you, Monsieur, for this exquisite dress and jewellery." She smiled up at him shyly, the blush still lingering on her face, turning her gaze from him back to the crowds around them.

* * *

"Mr. Garnier!" There was a high pitched voice that came from behind them and Christine heard Erik inhale sharply and felt his body tense. She cast him a worried glance.

"What is it?"

"Shortly you will have an idea of what Isabelle was talking about earlier." Christine remembered Isabelle's indignation at other women's behaviour and wondered if it was really that bad. From the way he held himself and the tense set of his jaw, she suspected it really wasn't pleasant. She cast him a sympathetic glance as the voice seemed to get closer to them. "It did take them longer to approach me than usual, though."

Finally, Erik decided to turn around and she followed him suit, watching as four women in elaborate dresses strode over to them. Christine rose an eyebrow, the sight was so familiar she wanted to laugh. She had seen many women like that when her and Raoul attended numerous dinner parties among his friends and acquaintances. The wives of rich noblemen in gaudy dresses and heavy jewellery trying to woo young men into their beds or trying to pass off their daughters to the most eligible and wealthy bachelors. She instinctively inched closer to Erik and gently slid her hand around his bicep to thwart any such plans. She had no doubt he could stand his own among these women but with her by his side there was a slight chance they could leave him be if they believed he already had someone.

"Mr. Garnier, what a pleasure to see you again!" The lady in front exclaimed with a beaming smile. The other ladies adopted a similar facial expression and Christine bit her lip to keep herself from laughing, the sight was just too amusing. She stole a glance at Erik's unmasked cheek and saw a twitch in his jaw, whether that was from amusement or anger she didn't know, so she gave his arm a slight squeeze in silent reassurance.

"Ladies." He greeted politely, his voice calm and even. He proceeded to introduce the ladies to Christine and although she listened attentively, the names escaped her almost instantly. She couldn't care less.

"It is nice to meet you." She forced a smile on her face and tried to be polite. The other women just looked at her with narrowed eyes, assessing her from head to toe in a passing glance.

"Pleasure." The lady in front said indifferently, behaving as if Christine was just a pesky fly or a vermin, and turned her eyes back to Erik. Christine's fake smile dropped and inside she seethed. She was no stranger to this sort of behaviour from other women and even some men, for when she was at Raoul's arm, the other aristocrats looked at her the same. She had heard the hushed whispers of the gossiping women, who had known she would hear them. They all had thought about her as the girl from the theatre and she had even heard them call her degrading names. To this day she didn't know whether Raoul had heard and simply had tried to ignore them or not. It had saddened her that he would not stand up to those people and defend her honour.

Anger still flowing through her veins, she stood up straighter and lifted her chin. She felt Erik next to her tense up even more and the narrowing of his eyes signalled his displeasure at such atrocious behaviour. In one smooth move, he slid his arm around her, his large hand splayed at her hip pulling her even closer. She suppressed a shiver at his possessive gesture and watched with triumph as the ladies' faces fell one by one.

"Ladies, if you'd excuse us." The thinly veiled anger in his voice took the ladies by surprise and they stood there speechless as Erik turned away with a slight pressure on her hip. His arm didn't leave her waist as they walked into a less crowded portion of the grand lobby. She could hear the hushed whispers of the women as they left and almost missed the slight tightening of his grip on her and his soft growl. He had heard as well and he didn't like it.

"I feel I should apologize for their behaviour." He began but she merely shook her head.

"It is not your fault. I've heard worse." He looked at her in surprise but didn't ask her to elaborate.

"Still, there was no reason for them to treat you like some street vermin. That's why I despise such gatherings. I cannot stand the behaviour of some of the aristocrats."

"I pity the ladies."

"How so?"

"Often stuck in an arranged loveless marriage with a man who entertains several mistresses. That life cannot be happy or fulfilling."


	14. Sarah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's look is based on the actress Tricia Helfer.

"I see that you have successfully defended my friend, Miss Renaud." There was a familiar voice behind them and they both turned, seeing Edward and Isabelle coming up to them. "But fear not, that was merely the beginning." Christine blanched at the idea of more such encounters but smiled despite herself at Edward's cheery disposition.

"I believe it was Erik who did most of the defending." She glanced briefly at her companion, who was watching Edward with a wry smile. "It's nice to see you again, Mr. McNeil." She smiled at him as he bent to kiss the back of her gloved hand. Erik's arm left her waist as he greeted Isabelle, who looked radiant in her pale blue dress. She was pulled into an embrace by smiling Isabelle and she found herself really glad for the other woman's presence.

"Erik, we have met the Earl of Sussex earlier and he wishes to speak with you."

"Very well."

"Leaving your ladies alone?" Isabelle remarked with a wink at her husband. Edward opened his mouth but she stopped him with a smile. "I am only teasing you. If it's alright with Anna, it's alright with me as well." Christine simply nodded when the two men looked at her. Edward kissed his wife's cheek and Erik simply gave Christine a nod. Both women watched as they departed in search of the elusive Earl.

"I'm so glad you could come, Anna." Isabelle giggled and linked her arm with hers as they observed the crowds around them.

"I'm glad to be here. The theatre is beautiful."

"Erik is really proud of it, quite rightly so." Isabelle paused and smiled at Christine. "Now tell me, did you get the music book I sent you?" Christine's smile froze on her face and she was left a little bit stunned.

"You sent me the music book?"

"Yes. I'm sorry I didn't send any note with it, but it was a rather last minute idea when I gave it to Edward to deliver. Who did you think it was from?" Isabelle looked at her curiously, raising one eyebrow.

"I thought Erik sent it to me." Disappointment filled her body at her admission. She had wished the music scores were from Erik, to show her he was not angry and to express his wish for her to start practising again by herself. "But you must not think me rude. I'm very grateful, it was a very thoughtful gift and I thank you for it." She smiled warmly at Isabelle, who didn't seem at least offended, judging by the knowing grin playing on her lips.

"Ah, there he goes." Isabelle remarked and Christine followed her line of sight until her eyes landed on Erik's imposing figure striding purposefully in their general direction.

However, he was soon stopped by a dainty hand clad in white glove on his shoulder and they both watched as he spun around to face the owner of said hand. It belonged to a tall blonde woman. However, they were too far away for Christine to clearly see the woman's features. Her eyes drifted to Erik instead, whose hands were balled into fists and his posture was visibly tense. Perhaps this was one of the other noble women Isabelle was speaking about earlier. She heard a soft groan of her companion.

"Oh my. I did not think she would dare show her face here." There was a hint of anger in Isabelle's voice and Christine wondered who that woman was.

"Who is it?"

"That's Sarah Dawson." The name made Christine frown; she recalled Edward talking about some woman named Sarah and how she had hurt Erik in the past. _Who was this woman?_ She didn't have to wait long for an answer. "She was Erik's lover." She shouldn't have been surprised by this revelation but she still felt a slight twinge of jealousy. She swallowed and pushed the feeling deep down inside. "They were together for about nine or ten months before they separated. I believe that was six months ago. Unfortunately not long enough for her memory to fade."

"Why do you say that? Why did they separate?" Isabelle sighed heavily.

"She was stealing Erik's money behind his back. Played a perfect little act of a good, proper lady. She had us all fooled, thinking she was in love with him."

"Was he?"

"No, I don't think so. I long suspected their relationship was mainly based on physical...affection." Isabelle gave Christine a knowing look and she fought the blush that rose to her cheeks. "I know he cared about her but I don't believe it was love. Not after..." Christine's curiosity was piqued when Isabelle trailed off, seeming a bit uneasy. She couldn't help it but she was curious about Erik's life since he had left Paris. He would probably not tell her since their mutual agreement to treat each other as strangers, so had to resort to dirty tactics and get information from his friends.

"After?" Christine prompted and Isabelle sighed.

"When he was living in Paris, there was this girl. Her name was Christine." Her breath caught in her throat, her heart racing. Had Erik told their friends all about his past? "They were sort of..." Isabelle trailed off hesitantly, trying to search for the right word. This told Christine that he indeed had revealed everything, including him pretending to be her Angel of Music.

"They were friends for a long time but somewhere along the way he had fallen in love with her. But there was another suitor as well. Erik told me himself that by the end his jealousy was so intense he nearly lost his mind completely. Anna, you have to understand that very few people had shown him any kind of compassion and love in his whole life. He acted purely on his instincts to protect the one he loved, even if it meant from other suitors." Isabelle sighed and scanned the crowds, her eyes returning to Erik and Sarah in the distance. Christine bit her lip and tried to blink away the bitter sting of tears as she listened to her.

"In the end he let her go, to be with the man she chose. She never really loved Erik anyway." Isabelle concluded with a sad sigh and Christine tried hard not to relive the very last moments in the Phantom's lair. The two kisses they shared, the way he broke down and ordered them to leave, the heartbroken man she watched as he cradled the monkey music box and professed his feelings for her, the touch of his hand on hers as she closed his fingers around her engagement ring. She remembered looking as Raoul rowed them across the lake to safety, her heart breaking with the sound of mirror shattering and the anguished cry of her Angel.

"I think it was too soon for Erik to even consider another relationship. One can't get over such love in a matter of months and he certainly wasn't over it then."

"Do you think he is over it now?" Christine asked rather hesitantly, not knowing if the budding fear inside her was of affirmation or denial.

"Yes, I believe so. He seems much happier." Isabelle nodded with a satisfied smile. Christine let out a breath she was unconsciously holding. "Unless he hides it very well, but he never could hide his feelings. His eyes betray him." Isabelle turned to her companion with a serious expression on her face. "I know you are not like _her_ , you don't seem the type, but I just want you to know that if you plan to do anything like she did, please leave him now. I don't want to see Erik hurt once more, he has had enough of that in his lifetime."

"I understand, Isabelle. I'm not like her." Even as she said it, she somehow doubted it. She would never even consider doing something so disgraceful, yet was she not taking his money in some way, even though he willingly paid for her services? She let it slide and was thankful that Isabelle didn't know her true reasons for accompanying Erik. Isabelle turned a little while to ask the waiter for water, so she completely missed as the elegant hand of Miss Dawson dragged Erik out of sight and into a more secluded corner of the foyer. But Christine saw and wondered how someone like Erik would let someone drag him away. Unless he still cared...

She dared not to finish the thought, instead she gathered her skirt and walked quickly to where they were standing before. Isabelle turned back to her companion but found her gone. Perplexed, she scanned the crowds and found Christine rushing over to where Erik was standing previously. She smiled and nodded to herself in satisfaction.

Christine peeked around the corner to only to be met with a sight of Sarah running her hand down Erik's arm. Her eyebrow rose and she listened carefully, catching bits of their conversation.

"What do you want from me, Sarah?"

"You know very well what I want, Erik." The suggestive tone didn't escape Christine and she suppressed a roll of her eyes. When Erik didn't respond, Sarah pressed on. "Don't you remember, Erik? How perfect we were together? I miss your arms around me and the passion we shared..." She trailed off and Christine clenched her jaw. Would this woman really do anything to get rich? Once again she peeked out at them.

"The only thing you miss about me is my money."

"You cannot deny how good the sex was." Erik said nothing, so Sarah continued, edging into Erik's personal space and Christine could see he tensed up even more. "I have apologized to you many times; I shouldn't have done that. If you give me one more chance, maybe we could try again?"

Christine didn't like where the conversation was going and briefly contemplated what to do. Her role was that of an escort and it was time she did what was expected of her: chase away the unwanted female attention from Erik. She smiled to herself, stopping a passing waiter and reaching for a glass of sparkling champagne with thanks. She turned on her heel and around the corner, wishing she had thought more about her next course of action. As she neared them, she could hear the last bits of their conversation.

"Please, Erik. Take me back. I'll do anything."

"No."

"Why not?" Christine knew that Sarah's question was the perfect opportunity to make her presence known. Putting on a smile, she straightened her back and lifted her chin slightly, calling out and approaching them from the side.

"There you are, Erik! I was looking all over for you." Her feet were light and confident, her eyes only locked on Erik as his head turned and at last his eyes found hers. The smile didn't leave her face as she looked up at him, his surprise evident in the green of his eyes. Her hesitation lasted quarter of a second as she rose on her toes, placing her hand on the lapel of his suit jacket, taking advantage of his slightly parted lips to capture with hers. The spark as their lips met was familiar to her and she enjoyed a brief moment of victory as he seemed to play along her little scheme, responding to her with a gentle pressure on her lips. The kiss was chaste and lasted no more than a few seconds as they parted, brown eyes locking on stormy green.

Christine handed Erik the glass of champagne with a beaming smile, turning her head slightly in Sarah's direction, feigning surprise at the other woman's presence.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I did not mean to interrupt."

"No, that is alright, darling." She didn't expect Erik to take her game further as he slipped his arm possessively around her waist and called her 'darling' in a gentle tone. "May I introduce you Miss Dawson. Sarah, this is Miss Anna Renaud."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dawson." Christine was surprised how very well she could fake politeness. She guessed being a Vicomtesse needed such false behaviour. She noted with amusement Sarah's stunned silence and wide, disbelieving eyes. Now that she was close to the woman, she could see all her features clearly. Curling blonde hair, large blue eyes, sharp jaw. She was beautiful, but that did not surprise Christine. After all, Erik liked to surround himself with beauty for as long as she had known him.

"Likewise. If you'll excuse me." Sarah faked a smile of her own and shot both of them a look before stalking away in a huff. This time Christine's smile was genuine as she watched the woman storm away. She felt Erik's warm breath ruffling the hair at her temple as he leaned slightly down.

"Thank you." He said softly and she looked up at him, smiling at the look of approval in his eyes.

She did play her role well after all.  



	15. The Opera, part 2

Erik smiled to himself as he led Christine away from where they were standing. He could clearly see her intent when she had called out to him and silently thanked her for her quick thinking. However, he did not expect her to press herself that close to his body and kiss him. Her uncharacteristic boldness had surprised him. He played along her game, thinking of how clever she was to come up with this plan, and applied a gentle pressure on her lips. When they separated, the shocked look on Sarah's face brought him a perverse feeling of victory. While she was right, they had been good in bed together, after learning the truth he could not stand the sight of her. Something in Christine's eyes told him she was already informed of his and Sarah's past relations and tried to get him away from her. He sighed with relief as they both watched the blonde woman storm away.

"Thank you." He leaned down so he could whisper those words to her and the genuine smile he got in return made his heart skip a beat. _No! You have sworn off love, letting her back into your heart would be utter foolishness!_ His smile dropped but he hid it carefully as he took a sip of the champagne she had offered him earlier to hide his annoyance. He was annoyed with all these women vying for his attention and felt truly grateful to have Christine by his side tonight, especially with Sarah in the picture. He didn't think she'd dare to show herself but he had been sorely mistaken.

Erik was appalled by the women's behaviour towards his companion earlier. Right in front of him! No one deserved to be slandered like that; the vile names they called her among themselves as he steered them away made his blood boil. He didn't think they could sink any lower than that. Her admission to hearing worse took him by surprise, even though he suspected that most of the noble women were the same no matter where they lived. What did she have to endure at her husband's side? He had no illusions; he knew that her reputation as a ballet girl and later an opera singer would not be treated lightly among the nobility. Noblemen usually didn't marry women below their class, instead chose them as their mistresses. Erik had known all that before, yet he didn't stop her from leaving. She had been naive to the ways of the world back then, it had made its marks on her and he hadn't been there to protect her. He sighed quietly, noticing Edward and Isabella walking over to them, wearing matching expressions of amusement.

"I could have her removed from the premises, Erik." Edward winked at him and grinned widely. "I thought she was intelligent enough to realize this was not a good idea."

"Leave her. I don't think she will bother me anymore." Erik cast a small glance in Christine's direction, she seemed mildly put out by the notion that Sarah was capable of returning after their display.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Edward's question took him aback for he sounded serious. He wondered what his friend had in mind. Realizing his arm was still around Christine, he dropped it to his side, careful not to touch her much, and followed Edward a small distance away from the women. He glanced back at them, seeing them happily in conversation, Christine laughing at something Isabelle said.

"So?"

"So what?" Erik looked bewildered at his friend. What was he asking?

"How is it going with you and Miss Renaud?"

"What are you implying, Edward?"

"Have you employed her _other_ services yet?" Erik looked at Edward as if seeing him for the first time, surprised by his bold insinuation and quite uncomfortable about the topic of this conversation.

"No." He replied simply.

"Why ever not? I thought from the way she kissed you- "

"That was just an act to rid me of Sarah's attentions."

" _Nevertheless_ , I don't know why you are so reluctant. She's expecting that from you." Erik raised a disbelieving eyebrow, while Edward just shrugged.. "It's her job. You're a man with needs and she is there to fulfill them." Edward paused and gave Erik a scrutinizing glare. "If this is about your mask again, I don't want to hear it, Erik. When will you get over it? From what I've seen, she is rather comfortable in your presence and doesn't shy away from your touch. She didn't even hesitate when initiating that kiss!"

Erik wondered if Edward would be so adamant about this had he known Anna's real identity. He didn't think so and suspected that Edward would try to keep him away from her. Not that he would blame him for Edward adopted a slight dislike to Christine, even though he had never met her, after witnessing Erik's heartbreak and the shell of a man that had been left behind. He sighed heavily in exasperation.

"I will think about it." He said at last, receiving a sceptical look from his friend just as the bell rang through the lobby, announcing the start of the performance. People mingled and easily found their way through the entrances to appropriate parts of the theatre. Erik walked up to Christine and offered her his arm, leading her up the main staircase and through a smaller dimly lit corridor until they reached a doorway covered by thick burgundy drapes lined with gold. He could see Christine glance above the doorway, trying to suppress a wry grin as she read the sign. He pushed the curtain aside and let her enter, delighted at her surprised gasp as she took a first look around the theatre.

"This is marvellous, Erik." The theatre was decidedly smaller than the Opera Populaire and less opulent but it had a very welcoming and warm feeling. The building itself had got very positive reviews in the press and people were always keen to return with each new opera or play. After meticulous and seemingly endless casting rounds, Erik had chosen the lucky few who displayed a rare talent and tutored their voices to perfection. He rarely indulged in casting well-known divas but rather preferred to find previously unknown performers, which often brought praise on his person and also on the talents he had found.

Of course not everything was always perfect, the orchestra sometimes drove him mad as well as the ballet corps, who at first danced like clumsy ducklings instead of graceful swans. But under the care of the theatre's ballet mistress and his watchful eye, they trained to their best abilities. The amount of paperwork also nearly drove him up the wall but otherwise it was a very fulfilling job.

He spotted his business associate, Mr. Williams, in the manager's box across the theatre and gave him a small nod. He noticed Christine was looking the same way and she gave a small smile and nod as well.

"Is this the place with the best acoustics?"

"No. The building is designed to have excellent acoustics no matter where you are sitting."

"Why Box 5, then?" He really didn't have an answer for that. In the Paris Opera, it was simply because that box had the best acoustics and the best view of the stage. Whereas in Savoy every seat offered great view and the best acoustics.

"Force of habit, I guess." He let a wry smile touch his lips and she gave him a knowing smile. Looking all over the theatre, both of them noticed that all people were already in their seats, excitedly awaiting the opera to begin. With a gentle hand on her elbow, he guided her to the plush velvet seats and then sat down as well, watching from the corner of his eye as she rifled through the programme.

There was an applause as Mr. Williams stepped onto the stage and took a bow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the second season of the Savoy theatre. We want to thank you for attending tonight and hope that you will enjoy the performance. Without further ado, we give you the Charles Gounod's grand opera, Faust." There was another round of applause, which slowly ended as the lights around the theatre dimmed, all eyes riveted on the lit stage in anticipation as the curtain lifted.

Act one soon blended into act two but Erik was not paying much attention. His thoughts wandered back to what Edward had said earlier about bedding an escort. It'd be a lie if he said he hadn't thought about it before but he never wanted to dwell on that thought. Now that Edward brought it up, it was once more put into the forefront of his mind. He wondered what Christine would do should he make the proposal. Would she get angry, scream in terror and run away or would she simply nod in quiet acceptance as was expected of her in her job? And if by some chance she did acquiesce, would she be able to detach from her true self and be with him in the most intimate way as a completely different woman?

There was a small part in his mind that whispered to him to try and ask but he didn't know whether it was his rational mind or his new-found libido. Since tasting the joys of the flesh for the first time with Sarah, he had found himself completely astonished by the sheer pleasure from this union. He had put his knowledge from books and from observing shameless rendezvous in the Paris Opera public places into practical use, so it was no wonder he had spent a lot of time bedding Sarah, who alongside his money had been enjoying the incredible pleasures he had given her.

He was awakened from his thoughts when Marguerite finished the ballad _King of Thule_ , slipping into the famous aria _Jewel Song_. Mephistopheles and Faust slipped quietly into her garden as he and Marguerite joined together in a powerful duet, the lead tenor kneeling on one knee.

_"What? Must I plead in vain?_  
Wait! Let your hand linger in mine!  
Let me gaze on your face  
Under the pale beams  
Through which your beauty shines, as though  
Through a cloud, caressed by the moon. " 

Glancing over at Christine, he noted her lips moved in sync as Marguerite sang to her lover:

_"O silence! Happiness! Unutterable mystery!_  
Rapturous languor!  
I listen and I understand this solitary voice  
Which sings inside my heart!" 

The lyrics seemed to him a bit too close for comfort but he brushed off the feeling and instead focused on his escort, who was utterly captivated by the performance. Though his eyes were on Christine, his mind had been roaming with questions and doubts. It wasn't long before the act five neared its end, the grand finale of the entire opera. As the curtain fell the audience graced the performers and musicians with a standing ovation, which lasted for a considerable amount of time. Christine was also on her feet with a beaming smile, clapping enthusiastically and Erik smiled to himself, pleased that the premiere was well received.

The thunderous applause lasted a long while and the performers came back on the stage several times to take their bows and all were smiling widely in excitement from a job well done. At last the clapping was replaced by an excited chatter of the audience as they left the auditorium to gather once again in the main lobby. Erik noticed Christine leaning against the padded edge of the box, looking out at the stage almost wistfully. He didn't say anything, just gently touched her elbow to get her attention.

"Shall we?" She looked at him, her eyes shining with happiness, though it was somehow tainted.

"Can we stay? Just for a little while."

"Of course." He straightened, dropping his hand from her elbow and linking it with the other behind his back. He remembered she had often stayed on the stage alone right after a performance when everyone else had gone away to celebrate. He could not blame her for her fascination; the silence that fell right afterwards was bewitching and the air still felt charged with the emotions from the performance and the audience, yet the feeling was a peaceful one. He too liked to soak everything up at times like these. She took a slow deep breath and after a moment turn to him.

"We can go now." He merely nodded and held the curtain aside for her so she could safely exit. They were a few steps from the box when two voices floated down the corridor to their ears.

"Are you sure he still has not left?" The incredulous voice made him stop dead in his tracks and it was obvious Christine recognized the owner of the voice as well.

"Yes, Miss Dawson. I have not see him exit. Mr. Garnier is quite hard to miss." The second voice was one of the noble wives they had met earlier that evening.

"And what about his companion?"

"I believe I saw her heading for the powder room." Erik raised his eyebrow. Madame Langdon surely needed her eyesight checked.

"Good, thank you. You may return, I don't need your help anymore." Sarah snapped at the older woman, who left with a scoff.

"I will not tolerate that hussy by Erik's side!" They both heard Sarah mutter to herself as her footsteps neared. Christine's growl of annoyance could very well rival that of Erik's. They were cornered, having no other escape route. He didn't know what to do; another confrontation with Sarah was highly undesirable as well as trying to escape by climbing down the box and into the auditorium. If he were by himself, he would risk it but he knew Christine wouldn't be able to climb. For the first time he cursed himself for not including secret passages into his new theatre's designs.

He looked over at Christine, who looked thoughtful as she glanced up at him, biting her lower lip. It was almost comical to watch as her expression changed as she obviously had formed an idea, one he couldn't even begin to guess by the look in her eyes. Her hand carefully encircled his forearm and she walked backwards until her back was against the wall. With a rather forceful tug on his arm she pulled him closer to her. His eyebrow rose, momentarily confused before realization dawned on him. He must have looked bewildered, for she whispered to him:

"Trust me." A split second later she pulled him down to her level and her lips found his once again. This kiss was unlike the chaste one she bestowed upon him earlier; it was urgent and demanding and left him nearly breathless. _Very clever, Mademoiselle. Very clever._ The footsteps neared their immediate location and he, overcoming his first surprise, encircled her waist with one arm, while the other hand sneaked upwards to cradle the back of her neck, gently holding Christine still as he deepened the kiss. Her hands urged him even closer, pressing the whole length of his body against her soft curves. The faint moan she released into his mouth caused his heart rate to accelerate, the sound of blood rushing through his ears.

Despite his sensory overload, he could still hear Sarah's disbelieving gasp as she emerged from around the corner. Erik broke off the kiss, slowly turning his head to their left to face the intruder. He gave her a cold glare, satisfied when she flinched and without a word turned on her heel and stormed away. If it not were for the breathlessness and his heartbeat roaring in his ears, he would have smiled in victory. Instead, he entangled himself from Christine, who was still leaning heavily against the wall also short of breath. His eyes were unintentionally drawn to her chest with her every quick intake of air, the visible tops of her breasts rising and falling tantalizingly, torturing him. At last he caught her eyes, surprised to find her peering at him shyly from beneath her lashes, a small blush staining her cheeks. Yet the look in her eyes was something he had never seen before.

It was then that he finally decided.


	16. Indecent proposal

Christine was lost in thought as Erik led them back to the main lobby, where people begun slowly dispersing, their voices still chatting excitedly about tonight's premiere. She felt lightheaded from the performance and from being in such familiar surroundings. It tugged at her heart strings and a sense of home sickness blossomed in her chest. Raoul had never even suggested going to see an opera or a play, always doing everything in his power to avoid the subject altogether. It was no wonder she was overwhelmed, for two long years she hadn't been in the vicinity of a theatre and now she could absorb once again all the sights and emotions it had to offer.

Of course it was not only that which caused her lightheadedness; her little liaison with Erik to ward off Sarah's attentions had its effect on her as well. Her cheeks still burned as she remembered the feel of his lips on hers and his hands on her body as he deepened the kiss she had initiated. After he had pulled away, she felt strange yet frighteningly familiar feeling inside her chest. She had felt this way only once before; when they sang together on stage during Don Juan Triumphant. The press of his body against hers had been intoxicating and made her skin tingle and her heart race. She was leaning heavily against the wall, trying to catch her breath as she watched Erik beneath half-closed eyelids. She noticed her heaving chest had drawn his eyes, no doubt thanks to the new way of fastening of her corset by Elizabeth's skillful hands. When he looked up, somewhat guiltily for acting so lewd, in his eyes she saw a glint of desire and determination, but it was gone in a flash as he took her wrist, gently pulling her from the wall and back to the grand lobby.

"There you are!" A familiar voice stopped them and Christine looked up, finding Edward and Isabelle's smiling faces in front of them. Erik's hand slipped from her wrist only to catch her hand, entwining their fingers. She did not miss the way the couple's eyes darted towards their joined hands and then their faces. Christine tried to fight off a blush that was once again rising to her cheeks at the raised eyebrow Edward gave Erik and the mischievous look on Isabelle's face.

"Here we are." Erik said calmly, dropping her hand, and Christine wondered how he could regain his composure so quickly.

"Tonight was marvellous, Erik. You know my love for Faust and the performances were simply splendid." Isabelle beamed and hugged him. "Unfortunately we have to postpone our usual dinner, I find that this little one is taking up all my energy already." Isabelle placed a protective hand on her protruding belly. At the mention of dinner, Christine's stomach did a little flip, reminding her she had not eaten for a long time.

"That is quite alright, do not worry about it. Just take care of yourself and the baby, that is the most important thing." He smiled softly, briefly placing his hand on top of Isabelle's. She drew him in for another hug and a small kiss to his cheek and then turned to Christine.

"I'm really glad you could come, Anna." Christine found herself briefly in her arms, hearing Isabelle's quiet whisper. "I like the colour of your lipstick." Her brows furrowed, she was ready to say she wasn't wearing any lipstick for any heavy makeup was frowned upon off the stage but then Isabelle drew back with a sly smile and a cheeky wink. That's when Christine understood and promptly blushed, earning a raised eyebrow from Erik. She couldn't look him in the eye for he was the sole reason her lips looked like she thought they had.

The couple bid their goodbye quickly after that and Christine felt relieved. Most people have already left, there were just a few small groups scattered around talking. Erik touched her elbow to get her attention, steering them gently towards the cloak room. He withdrew the two paper tickets and handed them to the attendant and while they waited, Christine looked in a nearby mirror, her eyes widening as she took in her appearance. Now she knew why Edward and Isabelle looked at them like that and why Isabelle made that remark. Her lips were red and slightly swollen, making them look fuller and more sensual. She bit her lower lip and averted her eyes, just as Erik came back with their cloaks.

"I usually dine with Edward and Isabelle after the performance." He explained Isabelle's earlier apology. "Would you like to accompany me? I have something I'd like to discuss."

"Yes, of course." She smiled at him, her stomach growling. He turned around but not before she caught the wry smile on his face. "I haven't eaten in a while." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she blushed as a soft chuckle drifted towards her. _What a stupid thing to say, Christine!_ When he spoke, she could hear the smile in his voice.

"I suspected as much." He didn't say anything else, no doubt sensing her embarrassment. He offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation as he led them outside. They were a few paces from the theatre when they came upon a restaurant; the building was adjacent to the theatre, although it looked more recent. She voiced her opinion to Erik and he smiled and nodded.

"Yes, it was built not six months ago. There was a demand for a decent restaurant in these parts, as there were only coffee shops around. I thought the place next to the theatre was a rather convenient spot." Christine nodded in agreement as they entered the restaurant, immediately greeted by the waiter, who seated them in a rather private area of the restaurant. It was not overly secluded, yet it offered enough privacy. This was clearly Erik's usual table. The waiter returned with a bottle of red wine and took each of their orders before hurrying away once more.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" He asked after a few moments of silence, raising the crystal glass to his lips. Christine had a difficult time concentrating, her eyes seemed to be drawn to the curve of his lips and the way they felt against hers.

"It was amazing. I have to agree with you; the lightning is more pleasing as it gives a chance to see the performer's expressions more clearly." Erik nodded in agreement, visibly pleased with her observation.

"That is what I think as well." He leaned back in his chair comfortably and Christine wondered if they were ever going to discuss what had happened between them after the opera. She expected to feel some sort of embarrassment or an unease between them, but there was nothing of the sort. Any further conversation was halted as the waiter came back with their dinner. They made idle chatter during the meal but more often than not they were silent. Once their stomachs had been filled and the dishes were cleared away, they sat in silence, both sipping on their wine.

"There was something you wished to discuss?" Christine asked, suddenly remembering his words from earlier. Erik's eyes rose to hers, the simple act suddenly very intense as the candlelight flickered in the green irises. She found herself drawing a deep breath as he took a sip of the wine before lowering the fragile stemware back on the table.

"Yes." She couldn't even begin to guess what he wished to discuss with her. He had not mentioned the ball at Baron's new residence the whole evening, maybe he decided to tell her now? His pause made her a little more nervous. Was that hesitation in his expression?

"I have thought about it and...I'd like to use your other services as well." His insinuated proposition left a complete silence in its wake. She knew she should have been surprised, shocked even, but instead she found herself quite calm. Perhaps she had been expecting it unconsciously, ever since having that conversation with Elizabeth...

 

 

* * *

 

 _"Anna?" Elizabeth's voice echoed down the hall to the music room, where Christine was bent over the piano, the fingers of her right hand darting over the keys clumsily, trying to learn_ Für Elise _by Beethoven from her new music book. Looking up, she saw Elizabeth enter the room with a smile on her face. "Do you spend all your free time here?" Christine just smiled and shrugged._

"Is anything the matter?"

"I just wanted to talk to you." She closed the door and walked over to the piano, sitting next to Christine on the bench. Christine's eyes widened at the serious expression on her face. Elizabeth noticed and let out a small laugh. "Oh dear, I didn't mean to frighten you. It's nothing bad, I promise."

"Okay. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"When you first came here and when I told you what we do, I have omitted a few things on purpose."

"What things?" Christine asked warily, her eyes wide.

"I didn't think you'd become an exclusive so early on, so I left out some things you didn't need to know. I know you have been a bit apprehensive about sexual relations with the clients, but I feel I have to talk to you about that. You are Mr. Garnier's exclusive and among other things, that means he doesn't have to ask Amelia for permission to bed you. Of course that doesn't give him the right to force you into anything, you can still decline. Usually men request another girl just for sex if his regular escort refuses."

Christine's head was spinning with all these information that she almost felt dizzy. Questions, thoughts, memories and feelings ran through her mind all at once. Would Erik dare? Would she accept? Or would she decline? What would he think of her? Did he still love her? Would his hands feel on her body the same as when he touched her during his opera? What would sex with him feel like? Did his body bear the same blemish as his face? The last thought made her blush.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Anna. You told me you had a husband, so you must know what happens. Was he your only one?" Christine simply nodded, unaccustomed to such bold topic of conversation and embarrassed to think about the act. "You only need to know that there is a difference between sex and making love. Sex is merely the way to find release, forget all your burdens and satiate the body's needs. And that's what we do for our clients, and in most cases, for ourselves as well."

"N-Needs?" Christine stuttered, as if the word was foreign to her.

"All of us have such needs, darling, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. Just to surrender your body in throes of passion to somebody who knows how to satisfy a woman is a very thrilling experience." Elizabeth gave her a wink and her blush deepened. "I remember the first time Andrew bedded me. I had always thought that sex was only to please the man, nobody ever told me that I could enjoy it as well. Andrew explained that by giving me pleasure he was also receiving it." She giggled delightfully, a light blush spreading on her own cheeks. "Did your husband please you?"

Christine remembered Raoul and the slow gentle love they had made. It had felt pleasant enough but she had never experienced that sort of release she had heard the girls at the opera brag about. At times she had wished he'd just take her in wild abandon, letting his passion unfurl completely. However, she had kept such thoughts to herself and kept the darkness of her heart a secret. She felt as if she were split in two, a dark creature of passion that longed to be freed in her young mind and body of light. There were times she had dreamt. Shameless dreams of herself and a man cloaked within darkness, a man other than Raoul, as the passion flared between them, filling her unconscious mind with explicit images of their coupling. She had often woken up sweating and gasping, her whole body throbbing, longing for release which her husband could never give her.

"Not really." She admitted in the end, sighing heavily with regret. She wanted to experience such pleasuresof which she had only heard about from the older girls in the opera or read in the romance novels she and Meg had hidden from Madame Giry's sharp eyes. But was it Erik who could show her what she had been missing?

"I don't know your Mr. Garnier that well, but from what I've seen, he oozes raw sensuality. You might be lucky as I was." Elizabeth's eyebrows wiggled and a wide grin spread on her face. "I wonder what he looks like naked." Elizabeth said suddenly, letting out a laugh at the mortified look at Christine's face.

"Do you think he will ask me?"

"He might."

 

* * *

 

She met Erik's gaze above the candles that sat between them, startled by the intensity in his eyes and surprised at the hesitant look on his face. She swallowed and her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, watching his eyes flick to her mouth at the gesture then back to meet her eyes again.

"Very well." She said at last, surprising herself by the steadiness of her voice and even Erik, whose visible eyebrow quirked slightly and a slight flash of disbelief passed across his face. His lips parted and her eyes once again betrayed her by drifting downwards, imagining the feel of his mouth on her body. The air around them thickened, charged with tension and she reached for her wine glass to calm her nerves. "When?" She asked simply and took a small sip.

"Tonight."


	17. Lust

After Erik paid for dinner, they put on their cloaks and stepped into the late night. He informed her that his house was within walking distance of the theatre and therefore suggested a short walk. Christine agreed, thinking that a walk in a fresh air would clear her head a bit and calm her nervousness. She admired Erik's calmness; he didn't seem worried nor nervous as he walked beside her, his hands clasped behind his back. It was as if what they were about to do was a normal everyday occurrence for them. _Which is what could happen if he wished it to be so._ She thought, a shiver passing through her body which had nothing to do with the crisp autumn air around them.

The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable or awkward in any way, she just wished to talk about something, _anything_ , that would give her back the sense of relative normalcy. As if sensing her turmoil, he began to speak.

"Baron Marshall is hosting a ball in four days. I'd like if you could accompany me again."

"Of course." She smiled, happy to divert her thoughts from this evening, at least for a while. "Elizabeth mentioned that you had built his new residence."

"Yes, I did." There was a pause, in which Christine wondered if he would be as distant as he was now when he bedded her. "There is no need to worry about anything; everything you might need will be delivered to you beforehand." Surprised but delighted, Christine nodded. She couldn't wait to see what dress Erik would choose for her. Judging from the exquisite royal blue silk covering her body, she knew it would be beautiful and trusted him with the choice.

All too soon for her liking, they were standing in front of Erik's house. Her nerves flared up again, butterflies dancing in her stomach. The exterior of the house was simple; an older detached two-storey building with dark red bricks and typical white windows and doors. Inside the house was dark and quiet, which was something she was not accustomed to. Back in Paris, Raoul and her had servants, so the house was never entirely quiet and always lit up. The Duchess was full of women, girlish giggles and faint footsteps could be heard all through the day and night as the women went in an out for their outings or spent their free time together.

When she asked Erik about the lack of servants, he merely smiled as he lit up a gas lamp and hung up their cloaks.

"I don't need full-time servants. I only employ one maid who comes twice a week to do the house chores." Christine smiled, it was a nice change of surroundings, one didn't have to worry about the staff eavesdropping or gossipping among themselves about their employers, which was a daily occurrence at the de Chagny household. "Come." Erik picked up the lamp and held out his hand, waiting for her to take it. Placing her fingers into his palm, her heart hammered wildly in her chest as she remembered what they were here for. He led her up the staircase onto the second floor and down a long corridor, opening the dark wooden door at the end of it. He entered first, setting the gas lamp on the desk on one side of the room near the window and lit a second one while she hovered in the doorway, her gaze roaming around the fairly large space.

Dark brown walls with subtle damask pattern lined the walls, complimented by the dark wood furniture. A couple of persian rugs were placed on the wooden floor. A large bed with cream coloured sheets dominated the room. Two armchairs surrounded a chess table on one side of the room near a marble fireplace. A regular chair was pulled up at the desk, its surface littered by books, sheets of paper and other stationery. One corner was dedicated entirely to reading, lines and lines of books filled the large bookcases with a creamy lounge chair standing nearby. Heavy brown curtains adorned the windows, though now they were drawn back to allow the moonlight to come inside. Overall the room was very dark, yet incredibly inviting and appealing.

"The bathroom is behind that door if you would like to use it." Erik waved his hand in the general direction and for the first time she noticed the door on the opposite side of the room. She nodded and stepped inside, slightly taken aback by the cold that creeped into her skin. She watched as he walked over to the fireplace, crouching next to it and preparing some wood. Leaving him to his work, she took one of the lamps and disappeared into the bathroom, where she could breathe a little easier. The realization of what they were about to do was beginning to dawn on her and she felt extremely nervous in his bedroom in his presence.

She looked into the ornate full length mirror near the bathtub, expecting to look different. Instead, she found the same Christine looking back at her; she didn't look any different than she had this morning, except now her cheeks were tinged with pink colour from the cold night air. As she continued watching herself, she contemplated what to do next. In the end she decided to remove her jewellery, carefully placing it on the cupboard next to the washbasin, and then her dress and gloves, leaving her in her corset, bloomers and chemise. As she undressed, doubts began to fill her mind with each inch of skin she uncovered. Would he find her pleasing? Was she too thin? Were her breasts too small? Pushing the doubts back into her mind, she concentrated on calming her breathing. She wasn't exactly afraid, certainly not afraid of him, but she still felt nervous. He was the second man to look at her naked body and the knowledge made her blush. What would it feel like with him?

Realizing she had tarried for too long, she quickly splashed her face with water and dried herself off. Reaching for the doorknob, her hand trembled slightly, wondering what she would find on the other side. Would he still be dressed or would he be waiting for her in his bed, naked as the day he was born? Taking a deep breath and forcing down her trepidation, she pushed the door open.

The first thing she noticed was that the curtains were pulled closed, blocking any natural light from the outside. That did not matter; the fire burning rapidly in the hearth of the fireplace was casting the room into a warm and welcome glow. That's where he stood, with his back to her, tall and imposing, looking into the flames. He had divested himself of his jacket and vest, now wearing only his white shirt and black trousers. She bit her lip as she let her eyes roam over him; his broad shoulders and back which tapered into lean waist and hips. Her eyes lingered at the curve of his backside hugged by his form fitting trousers, feeling her cheeks burn hot. _What is wrong with you, Christine? Focus!_

She placed the gas lamp back on the desk. He turned at the noise, but she knew he must have already felt her presence when she opened the door. She swallowed a gasp as she beheld him in front of her. His shirt was loose, showing skin and a tantalizing view of chest hair. She had seen him like this once before; that night after Don Juan as he dragged her down to his lair. However, she had other things to think about back then; herself, her fiancee, her friends, the building burning above their heads...But now all that was in her mind was Erik and the situation they found themselves in. All her focus was on his lean form, the light from the fire dancing in his eyes, his intense gaze even more mesmerizing as the shadows danced over his face and the mask he wore. In one swooping gesture his eyes scanned her from head to toe and Christine could see his jaw tighten. Needing something to do with her hands, she turned both gas lamps off, leaving only the fire to light up the room. All the while she felt his eyes on her, burning into her. As she turned, he noticed he was now nearer to the bed and as their eyes met again, unbearable heat spread through her and into her extremities at that single look.

The air was charged with tension as Christine took a few hesitant steps until she was standing right in front of Erik. She didn't know what to do next, relying on him to take the first step. And he did.

 

* * *

 

She held her breath as he raised his hands, watching his every move. Then his fingers were in her hair, carefully drawing out the pins that held it up in the loose updo. She stood rooted to the spot, her throat feeling tight, her chest heaving with each breath. His moves were graceful as he circled her, removing the pins at the back of her head, his fingers brushing the nape in a whisper of a touch. She suppressed a shiver and swallowed as her hair cascaded down her back. She felt him brush the wild curls aside and anticipated his next move with her eyes shut. She nearly jumped when she felt the laces on her corset start to give way as he undid them. At last the offending garment slid off of her and she could breathe easier for a moment, however short lived it was. As soon as she opened her eyes, her breath left her when she found him in front of her once again, his eyes boring into her. The air between them thickened and she could feel his soft breaths on her face.

Neither said anything as he gently traced his fingers down her jaw, then lowered his head to initiate a kiss between them for the first time. She surprised herself by tilting her head up, welcoming his mouth on hers. Her eyes drifted shut almost immediately, getting lost in the moment when the press of his lips turned from gentle to deep and urgent, stealing the breath from her lungs. He was intoxicating, her head was spinning as she inhaled his scent - a mix of exotic spices and his own natural scent. This was nothing like the kisses they had shared up until that point; one of his hands slid into her hair at her nape and the other circled her torso, pulling her closer to his body. When his tongue darted out to taste her lower lip, her knees almost gave out under her. A rush of desire swirled through her as his tongue coaxed her lips to part more, enticing her own with gentle flicks. Her tongue shyly met his but she was quickly swept inside his passion, hearing herself moan into his mouth.

Erik's hand slid from her nape, down the side of her neck, shoulder, his palm lightly skimming the side of her breast covered by the thin chemise. He broke off their kiss and Christine stared at him with heavy-lidded eyes, the only sounds she was aware of was the fire crackling in the fireplace and their own laboured breathing. His green eyes sparkled dangerously and she felt herself being drawn inside that gaze, just like the first time when he appeared in her dressing room mirror and took her down into the fifth cellar. Yet that was nothing compared to the way he was making her feel now. His lips descended upon her jaw, kissing and sucking their way down her neck as his hands drifted to her hips, bunching the thin linen of her chemise and slowly pulling it up and over her head with her help. Her naked torso was now pressing against his shirt clad chest, her sensitive nipples brushing the white fabric.

His mouth was now sucking at her pulse point right under her ear and Christine had to grip his upper arms to remain standing. She felt her heart hammering in her chest as one of his hands found her breast, cupping the soft flesh in his large palm, releasing a growl into the skin of her neck. That almost animalistic sound sent a thrill down her spine, her skin tingling wherever he touched or kissed. She was surprised by the feel of his hands; she had expected them soft, like Raoul's had been, but in reality they were work-roughened, creating very different but pleasurable sensations. When his thumb grazed her nipple, she gasped out loud, her fingers digging into his bicep as he squeezed her breast gently in response.

Erik flicked his tongue in the hollow of her throat, peppering her collarbone with small kisses as he moved even lower, finally finding her breast, licking and sucking at her tender flesh, grazing her nipple with his teeth. Letting out a small cry, she felt her knees buckle hard. He must have felt it as well, for he steered them towards the bed, laying her down upon the creamy sheets. He pulled the shirt out of his trousers and over his head, giving her a brief glimpse of his chest before he returned back to her side. The look in his eyes spoke plainly of his desire and lust and she felt her body respond to that on an instinctual level.

He kissed her then, a deep languid kiss, while his hands explored her upper torso, cupping and squeezing her breasts, teasing her nipples, tickling the soft skin on the underside. His lips followed his hands, thoroughly mapping her flesh, tracing every dip and curve as he moved down her body, his tongue dipping into her navel. The foreign sensation made her squirm but soon she was moaning quietly as he planted kisses along the hem of her bloomers. Christine had to admit she was quite surprised by the way Erik seemed to take his time exploring her body. Raoul had never been this thorough and their foreplay had never lasted more than a few minutes; now she felt like hours passed since she stepped out of his bathroom.

His hands were on her hips again, his thumbs caressing her covered flesh on either side. She bit her lip, suddenly nervous again as his fingers reached for the waistband, drawing her bloomers down her legs. She shut her eyes tightly, fearing his reaction to the first glimpse of her naked body. She panicked when she felt him rise from the bed, thinking he didn't find her pleasing and clenched her knees together as she planted her feet against the mattress. She half-opened her eyes to look at him but the sight at the end of the bed forced her eyes to open fully. He wasn't looking at her but was rather focusing on undressing himself. Her eyes followed his every movement, the flexing of his muscles as he divested himself of his trousers and then breeches until he stood there completely naked save for the mask covering the right side of his face.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight and she could have sworn she was not breathing as she beheld a man's fully naked body for the first time in her life. With Raoul, their lovemaking usually happened under the sheets, so she had often got glimpses of his chest at best, the rest she had felt with her hands. Sure, she had seen pictures in the books, but they couldn't prepare her for the reality. There was no other way to describe him; he was magnificent with his broad shoulders and solid chest, lean hips and strong thighs. His body was the epitome of masculinity, the flickering flames in the hearth accentuating lines of muscle with no visible imperfections marring his skin. Her eyes followed the dark trail of hair starting below his navel to his straining arousal. Her mouth went suddenly dry and she felt her whole body flush at the sight, a rush of wetness pooling between her thighs. She was shocked and embarrassed by her body's response; why was her body reacting this way to the mere sight of his naked body?

He caught her watching him but he didn't say anything. He just looked back with those intense eyes of his, unashamed of his nudity. When he had been kissing her and touching her, she felt her nervousness start to slip away and she responded to his touch with just a slight tinge of hesitancy. Now her nerves tripled as she felt the bed dip under his weight and his hands stroking up her calves. She wanted to close her eyes but found herself unable to do so, anticipating with slight trepidation his next move. He gently grasped her knees and drew them apart, feeling her slight resistance.

"Relax. I won't hurt you." His voice sounded unlike anything Christine had ever heard before, deep and husky with arousal. She grasped the sheets on each side of her, her fists clenching and unclenching around the material. He shuffled closer, knelt between her legs and her stomach quivered with nervousness. _Anytime now._ She thought, waiting anxiously for him to join their bodies. Yet he did not bring their bodies flush together, just rested his weight above her on his hands and lowered his head just enough to capture her lips in his once again. She didn't expect that and let out a gasp, which he swallowed as he kissed her deeply, yet less urgently. Her body was coiled tight with anticipation, the thoughts of relaxing far from her mind. How could she relax when he was doing this to her? He kept her in a permanent state of uncertainty, waiting for his every move. She didn't know whether she wanted him to finally finish it or to keep touching her like that.

To deny she was aroused would be an utter lie; his ministrations urged her body for response to his touches. And to her surprise, respond it did, quite readily so. The dark creature inside her fought to be freed, to finally succumb to the previously unknown erotic pleasures. To her dismay he broke of the kiss but in a split second later his lips and tongue attacked her jaw, forcing her eyes shut as he sucked at her throat, leaving a wet trail as he drifted lower, paying a brief attention to her breasts and nipples before moving along. His fingers caressed her hips and her outer thighs on each side of him, his mouth never leaving its exploration of her body. She felt him shift and suddenly his breath was washing over her privates. She swallowed several times, wondering what he was doing. When his lips fastened on her throbbing flesh, her eyes flew open with a cry, her back arching from the bed. Panting heavily, she tried to make sense of all the sensations coursing through her but found she could not. She had never felt like this before, the touch of his mouth and tongue on her most intimate place new and strange and very arousing at the same time. Her whole body trembled, her thighs quivering in his grasp on each side of his head, her hips rocking minutely against him. She wanted to withdraw from him, to stop this torture he was putting her through and yet she wanted to pull him even closer, wanted him to bring her to the edge.

She stared at the ceiling as he continued with his sensual assault but she felt incredibly curious, so she trailed her gaze down the length of her body. The sight of him with his eyes lowered, his jaw working to bring her the utmost pleasure was incredibly electrifying. She knew she should probably feel embarrassed, but she found she could not. At the Opera Populaire she had heard some of the girls mention this particular act in a passing and she thought it very dirty and vulgar. Now that she was experiencing it, she thought it to be anything but. How could anything feeling this good be a sin? She shuddered when his fingers touched her, caressing her hot flesh gently. Strange heat pooled in her lower abdomen, the throbbing of her muscles in tandem with her pulse nearly driving her mad, her breaths turning into short gasps. She could feel him everywhere; his scent on the pillows, on _her_ , his hands leaving her trembling thighs and trailing over her torso, stoking the pleasure even higher.

Christine was still watching him when suddenly his eyes raised and locked with hers. The fire in their green depths stole her breath and she felt her whole body seize as he continued his ministrations. She didn't think a human's body could withstand such pleasure; she had to be dying, she just knew it. Her eyes were clamped shut as white light exploded behind her closed eyelids, a surge of electricity whipped through her as the tension inside her finally snapped and an unbearable heat shot from her core into her extremities. She heard a high-pitched cry, only vaguely realizing it was her own when she heard him groan long and deep. She couldn't concentrate on anything but the way her body shook and convulsed, the pressure of his mouth on her turning gentle, easing her down from her release until she lay limp on the sheets, trying desperately to catch her breath.

The world was spinning behind her closed eyelids and she forced them open to steady herself. Erik was once again kneeling between her legs and she took the opportunity to watch him. He too was slightly out of breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes drifted involuntarily downwards, widening when she noticed his own hand wrapped around his arousal, her body giving a responding throb at the sight. Only then did she realize he was about to use french letters and she blushed at the realization of what was yet to happen. His eyes roamed her body and he leaned over her, his lips enclosing over one sensitive nipple. She gasped at the sensation, one of her hands unclenching from the sheets and rising to the back of his neck. He laved the firm bud with his tongue and then let his teeth gently graze over the flesh. Her hand tightened at his nape when he kissed his way over to the other breast, giving it the very same attention. Erik shifted, at last pressing their bodies flush against each other with a groan, resting his hips in the natural cradle of hers.

Her hand slid from his nape to his shoulder, overcoming her sudden shyness and trailing her palm down his torso. She figured that if he gave her so much pleasure, the least she could do was to return it, though not in such intense fashion. Just the mere thought of it brought a strong blush to her cheeks. Her eyes followed the path of her hand for she knew he was watching her face but she couldn't make herself to look back at him. The pads of her fingers found his nipple and she gently stroked the small bud, feeling his heavy exhale ruffle the hair at her forehead. She trailed her hand lower and across his abdomen, feeling his muscles twitch under her questing fingers. She stopped near his navel, too shy to continue her brief exploration, but when his hand found hers, her eyes snapped back to his. Without breaking her gaze, he trailed their joined hands lower and lower, until their fingers encircled his throbbing flesh. She held her breath as he guided her hand up and down his length, watching his face closely. His eyes drifted shut and he bit his lip as she continued stroking him. He squeezed her fingers and she tightened her hold on him, feeling the groan bubble up from his chest, the arm propping him up trembling slightly. His body's reaction to her shy touches invoked her own, her hips shifting to get closer to his heat. He felt her movements and his eyes snapped open. His hips moved a fraction of an inch and she could feel him pressing against her. Erik released her hand and Christine relaxed, safe in the knowledge what was to come.

He guided himself inside her slowly with a deep growl, inch by inch until she was gasping at the incredible fullness. If even after the amazing foreplay she had been expecting the same sensations as with Raoul, she was terribly naive. They could not compare to the feelings Erik was now bringing forth from her; instead of carefully measured gentle monotone strokes, he moved his hips freely, swept inside the passion they created between them. He kept changing the rhythm, alternating between fast and excruciatingly slow, controlling the depth of his strokes and the angle with each thrust of his hips. He never let her relax, she was completely at his mercy and the anticipation of his next thrust was drawing her near madness. She was hyperaware of everything; the feel of him around her, _inside_ her, the crackling of the fire, the sensual slide of their sweating bodies against one another, their own loud groans filling the charged air of the room as they moved. Needing something to hold onto, she gripped his back as he crushed his mouth to hers in a kiss filled with lust and raw need. In the back of her mind she registered a strange texture against her fingertips as she dragged them up and down his back. However, she didn't dwell on it for her body clenched and tingled in anticipation of another release as he drove himself inside of her again and again. She didn't know whether she was falling or drowning, the sensations were too strong and she felt she couldn't breathe. She ripped her mouth from his with a gasp, her back arching as the now familiar heat unfurled and blazed, taking her over the edge. His growl of release when she clenched around him mixed with her own husky groan in a passionate symphony, a delightful harmony of sounds.

Erik's arms shook with effort as he held himself above her, his head bowed, his breathing ragged and flowing hotly over the curve of her neck. She let her legs and arms fall on each side of her, mentally and physically exhausted, yet incredibly satisfied. She let out a small sigh as he withdrew from her but she didn't have the energy to open her eyes as she felt him leave the bed. She curled onto her side, feeling her heartbeat finally start to return to its normal pace. Vaguely she felt him return back to bed but she was fast asleep when he covered her body with the sheets.

 

* * *

 

Christine gasped when she felt Erik thrust inside her once again, sweeping her on a wave of passion. She was enveloped in the safety of his arms, his head buried in the crook of her neck, her legs locked high around his hips as he drove into her in wild abandon. This was what she had been wanting, waiting for. This raw lust, this despairing _need_ that ached inside of her that Raoul was never able to fulfill. And here she was, in the arms of her former teacher, her Angel of Music, her guide and guardian, and he was showing her what it should feel like, what it _could have_ felt like had she stayed with him.

As he drove into her hard and fast, she felt herself rapidly approaching the precipice, ready to cry out her pleasure to the whole world, not caring who might hear. She opened her eyes and the scream that rose from her stuck to her throat. Her eyes widened as she beheld the form of Raoul de Chagny standing beside the bed staring at their two writhing bodies locked in a passionate embrace. She tried to get Erik's attention or push him away but he didn't seem to hear, he was relentless as he moved inside her, sucking the soft skin of her neck into his mouth. She whimpered, with desire or fear she didn't know.

It was disturbing seeing her husband watch her, his wife, as she willingly surrendered her body to his arch enemy. _Your dead husband. Raoul is dead. DEAD! You are just hallucinating, Christine!_ She blinked her eyes several times but he didn't go away. He was pale, his skin almost white, a dark red spot marring his forehead, reminding her of the brutal way of his murder. She could see him so clearly in the morning sunlight that filtered from the windows.

Realizing her attempts to stop her lover were all futile, she just lay in his embrace limply as he took her again and again. Her eyes never left Raoul's form; his head slightly bowed, his gaze directed at their moving bodies rather than their faces. She felt her lover tense, letting out a deep groan as he found release inside her body. That was when Raoul's eyes snapped to hers and she let out a scream.

 

* * *

 

Christine awoke abruptly with a gasp, trying to catch her breath as she sat up, shaking the images of her too vivid dream from her mind. Her gaze darted quickly around the room but she didn't find anything odd. There was no Raoul, the curtains were still drawn and as far as she could tell, it was still nighttime. Her heartbeat slowed to its normal pace and she looked at the other side of the bed, finding Erik asleep with his back towards her. She rubbed her forehead with her fingers. _Just a dream._ Her breathing too returned to normal and now the room was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the dying fire and Erik's quiet exhales as he slept.

She watched as his chest rose and fell peacefully and felt immediately calmer. As her eyes traced over his form, that's when she noticed something was wrong with his back. She recalled raised skin as she ran her fingertips along his back earlier in the throes of passion. She scooted closer, careful not to wake him with her movements, and took a closer look at his flesh, biting back a gasp that rose from her throat. The raised skin were actually scars, differing in size and direction, crisscrossing all along his upper back, the irrefutable proof of humanity's ugly side.

Swallowing up a feeling of fierce compassion and protectiveness, she rose from the bed, trying not to jostle it too much. A man's robe was draped over the desk chair and she put it on to cover her nudity, tying the loose ends together. The black silk was too large for her, but at least she was covered. She didn't feel comfortable parading around as God made her. On light feet she walked over to the fireplace, putting a few more logs inside the hearth, satisfied when the flames began to lick at the newly added wood. Christine sighed and pulled back one of the curtains, looking out of the window. She didn't know how much time had passed since they came here, but it was still dark and there was no sign of dawn yet, so she figured it was very, very early in the morning. The street below was deserted, only the streetlamps were lit and the houses around were dark except a few where light could still be seen in one of their windows.

Christine folded her arms and leaned her hip against the windowsill as she stared out, her mind going back to her dream. To her shame, her body was still throbbing from the explicit imagery of Erik and herself; that part of the dream had felt all too real and her body seemed to remember that part fondly. But in mere moments the arousing dream turned into an incredibly disturbing one. Seeing Raoul there, catching her _in flagrante delicto_ with his once rival shocked her, even more so when she realized Raoul had been dead for more than a fortnight. However, the most alarming thing was his eyes; black as the robe she was wearing, the betrayal in their depths scorching her, condemning her soul to hell.

 _I know you didn't send me to his bed, Raoul. But none of us could predict what would happen._ She sighed quietly, staring unseeing into the distance. _I have made peace with myself and this situation, Raoul. I will tell him everything. I must._

Christine sighed again and looked out on the horizon, her mind turning involuntarily to the moments of passion earlier. Did all that really happen? Did she really behave in such wanton way? Did he really give her so much pleasure so selflessly? She blushed and bit her lip as her body gave a slight twinge. She tried to hide the small smile that came upon her lips but she could not. At last she knew what Elizabeth had been talking about. What the girls at the Opera were talking about. At last now she believed them.

The air around her changed, a soft breeze passed her and broke her out of her reverie. That's when she felt him, felt his powerful presence and the heat of his body. Her eyes focused again and in the window she could see a reflection of his white mask against the night outside.

Erik was standing right behind her.


	18. Lust, part 2

At first Erik didn't know what woke him up but upon opening his eyes, he saw Christine's restless form as it trembled beneath the sheets, soft moans escaping her throat. She was obviously in a deep sleep and the dream she was having apparently wasn't that unpleasant. The corner of his mouth lifted sleepily in amusement, his mind drifting back to earlier. His body still hummed with desire, hardening as he recalled their passionate coupling.

He had expected Christine to just lay there and tolerate his advances but she had surprised him; after she had shaken off the initial hesitancy, her body had been extremely responsive to his touches. That had fueled his own lust, the desire to bring her the utmost pleasure. Her initial reaction when he had worshipped her with his mouth had him surprised for he assumed her husband had seen to his wife's sexual needs. Obviously that was not the case and Erik revelled in the fact that _he_ was the one to teach her, to show her that this was something she was supposed to enjoy, not fear or dislike. He had not expected her to touch him in any way, yet when her small hand had shyly drifted across his shoulder and over his torso, her timid fingers teasing his nipple, his body had reacted rather sharply and he had tried to suppress a shiver. The memory of their joined hands trailing lower and lower until he curled her fingers around him, stroking and exploring gently, awakened his body once again and he stifled a groan in the pillow.

Next to him, he could hear Christine still lost in her dreamworld until she gasped loudly, the mattress jarring as she sat up. Erik evened out his breathing, not wanting her to know he was a witness to her dreaming for she would surely be embarrassed. After a few moments her breathing calmed and he wondered what she was thinking about. He felt the mattress move and sensed her close proximity. What was she doing? Her soft breaths washed over the naked skin on his back and that's when he realized she was probably looking at his scars. Erik remembered when her fingers had gripped his back in the throes of their passion but she hadn't reacted to it in any way. He swallowed and waited.

There was a soft sigh as her eyes left his form, a rustle of the sheets as they were pulled back. He felt her rise from the bed and his keen ears caught her light footsteps and another rustle of fabric. Curious, he carefully opened one eye and saw Christine in front of the fireplace, his black robe hanging on her small frame as she reached for more logs to add to the fire. After a few moments staring into the fire, she silently padded over the the window, drawing the curtain back and gazing out, her arms folded, one hip leaning against the windowsill. She looked deep in thought and Erik wondered what was going through her mind. Was she trying to make sense of what happened earlier between them? Was she thinking about her husband? Did she feel repulsed when she realized that it was the hands of murderer that touched her so intimately? As he continued to silently observe her, he noticed with relief that she didn't look distressed or anything of that nature. On the contrary, she seemed rather at peace. His eyes drifted from her profile to her shoulder, where his robe slipped off without her noticing, revealing smooth naked skin to his gaze.

His body spurred into action as he left the warmth of the sheets and got out of bed. He approached her silently, his body humming with arousal as he stood directly behind her, knowing he had to have Christine again.

_No, not Christine. Anna._

Her eyes were unfocused but it wasn't long before she sensed his proximity. Erik felt her tense slightly but it was not out of fear; her face in the reflection of the glass showed surprise more than anything else. She didn't turn, waiting for him to make the first move. Her bare shoulder was like a magnet to him; he lowered his head and fastened his lips on the naked flesh, nearly moaning at the exquisite softness. Christine shifted ever so slightly, leaning into his touch, her lips parted, her eyelids heavy. One of his hands gently brushed her chocolate curls aside, allowing his lips to travel further upward, sucking lightly at the curve of her neck. He inched closer to her and rested his hand on her hip, the silk of the robe cool against his palm. He tightened his grip on her flesh and pulled her flush against him, her back to his front. Erik didn't miss the soft gasp that floated out of her mouth as she felt his arousal pressed against her backside. He resisted the urge to rub against her, instead applied more pressure of his lips at the pulse point near her ear. Her head rolled to the side with a sigh, giving him better access. It was exhilarating to have a woman in his arms responding so readily to _his_ touches. Him, who had once thought he would never get to know the joys of the flesh.

Erik brought his free hand up to her naked shoulder while he nibbled at her earlobe, his fingers trailing down to her front, skimming her clavicle and disappearing under the silk robe to cup her breast gently. He heard her small gasp and felt her flesh react to his touch, her nipple hardening as it grazed his palm. Christine leaned against him, turning her face towards him, studying him with heavy eyes. Even in the moonlight they were dark, their brown depths swirling with arousal. Without thinking he pressed his lips to hers, deepening the kiss when she opened her mouth to him. The hand on her hip sneaked around her to untie the sash of her robe deftly, letting it fall open. Now there was nothing standing between his hand and her flesh and she seemed to realize this for her breathing grew laboured by the minute, her body shivering as he continued his merciless assault.

Unhindered, his hand slipped between her legs and his eyes flew open in surprise when his fingers encountered slick wet heat. Erik released her mouth to allow them to breathe and he dipped his head to groan into the curve of her neck. Her dream had affected not just her mind, but body as well and he relished in the tiny moans she was making as he explored her intimately. Christine shifted, trying to close her legs against the pleasure but he was quicker, slipping his knee in between hers, keeping her thighs apart to give him free access to her secrets. His thumb brushed against her sensitive bud and she gripped the windowsill with one hand, the other propped against the windowpane for leverage as she arched against him like a cat with a soft cry, her backside rubbing against him enticingly. He groaned at the feel of silk against his arousal, wanting nothing more but to feel her skin against his own, her own silk _around_ him.

The lust that swirled inside him nearly threatened to overwhelm him but Erik stayed focused. As much as he wanted to slide into her from behind like this, he did not want to take her against the window, where anyone could see should they look up. He withdrew his hand, which got him a mewl of disapproval, and gave her breast a last gentle squeeze before withdrawing as well. Christine turned, her eyes wild, her lips parted, a light pink blush staining her cheeks and neck. She looked up at him with surprising shyness, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. His eyes were drawn from hers by that simple gesture and somehow he found it oddly erotic. Licking his own lips, he waited. He lifted his eyes only to find her gaze diverted to his mouth, trailing across his chest and even lower, blushing deeply as her eyes lingered on a particular part of his anatomy signalling his desire. Erik forced himself still, his heart hammering against his rib cage as he watched her lengthy perusal of his naked form. His physique and physical prowess were the only attributes he liked about his body and at this moment, as Christine trailed her eyes back up, he felt quite desirable.

Her dark long lashes fluttered and at last she met his eyes again. There was still some shyness visible on her face and her deep blush still graced her cheeks, but her dark pupils swirled with desire. Her teeth still worrying her lower lip, she let the robe slide to the floor, leaving her completely bare to his gaze. He swallowed the sudden knot in his throat and leaned down to capture her lips in a deep kiss. His hands reached out for her, pressing her closer with one hand splayed at her back and the other on her hip, bringing their naked bodies flush against each other. His deep groan was lost in the cavern of her mouth as she kissed him back with equal desire, her small hands coming up to rest on his waist. She had touched him like this before, only back then they had been wearing much more clothing and stood in front of an audience; still her touch burned him even then. He broke off the kiss and resumed his earlier ministrations at the curve of her neck, licking and sucking at the pale skin.

Erik smoothed his hands up and down her back, his fingers tracing the dip of her spine until he encountered the soft flesh of her backside. He cupped the firm globes in both of his hands and squeezed lightly, bringing her even closer to his arousal. Christine's breathy moan teased his ear and his eyes snapped open in surprise as her right hand moved lower timidly, her inquisitive fingers skimming over the skin of his hip. He tensed, anticipating her next move; he wanted her to touch him but he wasn't going to direct her hand as he had done before; he simply waited if she would take it further. He didn't have to wait long, for her fingers gently traced his manhood, her touch hesitant, unsure. Erik groaned near her ear and she trembled in response, her fingers wrapping around him, applying the exact same pressure he had shown her earlier. A tremor passed through his body at the pleasure he was receiving and he hungrily seized her mouth again, groaning as her fingers mapped his silky hard flesh in slow, torturous strokes.

Wild with lust, he pressed her against the window, hiking one of her legs up around his hip. He needed her badly and he could scarcely wait. Christine was swept inside their passionate exchange as well, her tongue sliding along his insistently as the movement of her hand sped up slightly. They were both breathing heavily until Erik could not longer stand it and tore his mouth from hers. Catching her wrist, he removed her hand and moved it around his shoulders. Christine simply looked at him, her lips parted and swollen from his kisses. Using his other hand he lifted her other leg until he felt her instinctively wrap her thighs around his hips, locking him in their embrace. Both of her arms found their way around his neck, one hand delved into the hair at his nape and the other gripped his back. This position brought them much closer and her eyes widened when she felt his arousal brushing against her own wet heat.

Somehow Erik managed to get them to bed and laid her down right in the middle of it. Her legs were still locked tightly around his hips and as he looked up at her, her eyes were closed, her back arched, giving him a perfect view of her breasts. He reached into the bedside table, quickly covering himself with protection when suddenly an idea occurred to him. In one smooth move he flipped them over, so he was lying on his back and Christine was straddling him. The sudden switch surprised her and her eyes flew open, looking down at him in confusion and slight trepidation. Her initial hesitation told him she didn't know what to do and he silently cursed the Vicomte for not showing his wife different kinds of pleasure. With a steady hand on her hip he guided her over him, applying gentle downward pressure. Shivering, she complied, slowly lowering herself on his hardness, sheathing him inside her wet heat. This position allowed him to go deeper than before and Christine seemed to realize this, her gasp intertwining with his husky groan as she surrounded his entire length. Her fingers dug into his chest as she trembled above him, getting used to the overwhelming feeling.

With both hands on her hips, Erik softly urged her up and down, watching the emotions playing on her face as she looked down at him with a look similar to wonder. The smug feeling from before returned and he enjoyed the fact that he was the first to show her, to teach her. It lasted a few moments until she learned how to move and she set out a slow rhythm that drove him crazy. He let her control the pace and let her figure out what pleased her the most while he just enjoyed the sight above him and the feeling of being inside of her. She leaned experimentally forward, just slightly, gasping at the new change of angle while his eyes rolled back into his head, his hands travelling from her hips to the twin globes of her backside to squeeze the flesh firmly. The rocking of her hips quickened and a throaty groan found its way out of her mouth. She straightened again, never once missing a beat in the rhythm of her hips until she tried to lean back, her hands gripping his thighs behind her for leverage.

Her high-pitched cry forced his eyes open and he groaned at the vision above him; her pale body bathed in both the light of the fire and the moonlight coming from outside, all her skin on display for his eyes to feast upon. He did so, without any shame, but not only with his eyes. His hands cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks with his thumbs, squeezing the soft flesh gently. His fingers trailed down the valley between her breasts and lower beneath her navel, seeking out her secrets. When the pad of his thumb found her throbbing bud, her rhythm faltered and she bucked against him hard, letting out a mewl of pleasure as he teased her mercilessly. To his surprise Christine caught his wrist, intent on stopping him but he didn't relent; instead he caught her hand with his other one, guiding it to where his fingers were just moments before. Startled, she looked at him nervously, uncertain of what his intentions were. He gave her a small grin and pressed her fingers to her own wet flesh, delighting in her gasp and the way her eyes widened at the new sensation. She squirmed in his lap and he was instantly reminded of their intimate joining.

Christine resumed her rocking and moaned when Erik guided her fingers in circular motion against her sensitive bud. He removed his hand and simply watched as she pleasured herself as she moved above him, a look of intense concentration on her face. He lifted his hips in counterpoint to hers and her eyes flew open, locking on his as her movements came to a halt. He groaned low in frustration but she merely raised and eyebrow and licked her lips. Before he had a chance to react, she was suddenly hovering above him, propping herself on her arms on either side of his head, her luscious hair falling around them like a heavy curtain. He remembered his hands and traced both his palms up and down her side, surprised at how large they seemed against her slim body. Her kiss caught him off-guard but he reciprocated quickly, joining her tongue in yet another passionate dance. She experimentally rocked her lower body back and forth as she nibbled and then sucked on his lower lip. Her touches grew decidedly bolder as the time progressed and he was glad he was the one to bring her out of her shell. She sat up and he followed, not wanting to break off their kiss just yet. He felt himself slide deeper inside of her in this position and watched as her eyes rolled back into her head with a groan.

Erik felt the familiar stirring in his loins as they rocked together, panting into each other's mouths as they sought out their release, their groans intermingling in the otherwise silent room. Christine was trembling as she clung to his back, the telltale tightening of her muscles around him signalling her impending climax. She tumbled over the edge mere moments later with a keening cry and he followed her lead with a fierce growl of his own before their sweaty bodies sank down on the bed, gasping for breath.

After they got their breathing somewhat under control, she rolled away from him and he took the opportunity to dispose of the french letters, collapsing back on top of the sheets in exhaustion. Glancing over at his escort, he found she was already sleeping, her breathing deep and even. He envied her for the ability to slide so easily into the land of dreams and as he pulled the sheets over their bodies and closed his eyes, he willed for sleep to claim him as well.

* * *

In truth, Erik didn't sleep long. The first rays of daylight streamed through the window, where the curtains were drawn back from the previous night as they forgot to close them in the midst of passion. It was early when he woke, barely five o'clock, but his mind could no longer sleep. For the first time in the last two years, a song filled his head and his fingers itched to touch a musical instrument and to play and compose again. Leaving the warmth of the bed, he dressed in clean clothes. He glanced at the bed and when he made sure Christine was still asleep, quietly left the room.

When he stepped outside on the empty street, he smelled the crisp air and marvelled at the first rays of sun. Today promised to be a beautiful autumn day, which for England was an unusual occurrence. He glanced back at his house and for the first time in weeks Erik wondered what he was doing.  



	19. Interlude II

Erik roamed the silent hallways of his theatre restlessly like the ghost he used to be. He could feel the pull of music, a pull which he hadn't felt in two long years, not knowing where it was coming from. The melody wouldn't leave his head no matter how much he wanted to. His feet led him automatically to the back of the theatre until he opened the door of the practice room, looking around the familiar surroundings. He had spent a lot of time here when he needed to think, just sitting on the bench at the grand piano, staring at the ivory and black keys, yet unseeing as he got lost deep in his thoughts. Not today.

He sat at the bench, lifted the top and touched his fingers to the cool keys. He stared at his hands, idly wondering if he was still as skilled as before or whether the music had left him completely. His thumb pressed down experimentally and the room was filled with the rich sound of middle C. He let the note linger and then released the key almost in wonder. After a moment of hesitation he played an easy tune. His fingers felt somewhat stiff on the keyboard but it was not long before he relaxed and his hands flew over the keys with confidence as if he had never stopped playing; as if his music hadn't left him. He played vigorously without a pause, one composition blending into another; Beethoven, Pachelbel, Mozart, Liszt and Chopin mingled with Erik's own compositions and several lullabies and folk songs. No matter what he played, the melody in his head was still there, urging him to bring it to life by his skilled hands.

Erik lifted his fingers from the piano abruptly in mid-aria. Standing up, he removed his jacket, vest and rolled his shirt sleeves up. He walked over to a nearby desk, gathering empty music sheets, pen and ink. Once again he sat at the bench and spread the items in front of him, staring at the blank lines on the paper. The first strains of the new melody echoed in the large space and Erik looked down at his hands, which suddenly seemed to have a life of their own. They glided over the keys with precision as they slowly brought the melody to life, expanding it, adding a crescendo here and there, building tension then slowing down before the grand finale. It was such a powerful feeling to hear his own composition with his ears rather than in his mind. It was a haunting melody yet beautiful and it even sounded better than in his head. Without wasting another thought he snatched the papers and the pen, furiously scribbling down the notes and playing his music over and over again.

 

* * *

 

It was 9 o'clock in the morning when Edward McNeil stepped foot into Savoy and made his way towards Erik's office. He knocked once and waited.

"Mr. Garnier is not in his office, Mr. McNeil." Edward spun around at the voice and found a short stocky man standing behind him. He recalled the man worked in the theatre but could not remember his name.

"Is he not in the theatre?"

"On the contrary, sir. He arrived very early, it must have been around 5 o'clock. I know this because I come to work at five myself. The theatre, as magnificent as it is, won't clean itself." The man gave Edward a smile and a shrug.

"Do you know where I can find Mr. Garnier, sir?"

"He walked around the theatre quite a bit but he didn't seem to have any particular destination in mind. However, last I saw him, he disappeared into the practice room at the back of the theatre. I haven't seen him since and from the wonderful music that has been coming out of the room I guess he hasn't left yet." He gave another shrug but seemed somewhat in awe when he mentioned music.

"Thank you very much, sir."

"My pleasure." The shorter man smiled, inclined his head and walked away.

Edward frowned. What was Erik doing here since five in the morning, holing himself up in one room? Feeling concerned for his friend, he headed in the direction the man pointed him to. The place was not hard to find since most of the theatre company seemed to stand right in front of the door. Nobody spoke, probably in fear of somehow disturbing the music coming from inside. Edward stopped to really listen. The combination of sounds made the melody haunting despite its rather fast pace but he had never heard something so unique and beautiful. He stood there for a moment, just listening and letting the notes flow through him. All too soon the piano slowly quieted until it came to a complete stop. A quiet sighs of dismay were heard from some of the company members. Edward turned to the group in front of him, lifting an eyebrow in their direction.

"I do not think Mr. Garnier would appreciate his employees standing around idly and not doing their jobs properly. I believe it's time for rehearsals?" He suggested, suppressing a smile when quiet grumbles reached his ears and he caught several glares pointed in his direction. The group dispersed until he was the only one standing in the corridor. He knocked twice on the door and called out.

"Erik, it's me."

There was a soft scraping sound of wood against wood and nearly inaudible footsteps as they neared the door. A faint click reached his ears as the door was unlocked and swung open to reveal his friend. His eyebrows rose in surprise as he beheld Erik for the first time.

 

* * *

 

When Erik heard Edward on the other side of the door, he rose from the bench and unlocked the door, letting his friend in. Turning from the door, he completely missed the surprise on Edward's face. When he didn't say anything after stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, Erik turned and at last saw the expression on Edward's face; it was almost comical the way his eyebrows rose high on his forehead and his eyes were round and wide.

"What?" He barked out before his patience ran thin; he really disliked people staring at him so, friend or no friend.

"Well, I have never seen you like this." Edward waved his hand in Erik's direction. He looked down the length of his body and had to concede that this was not the way he usually presented himself to his friends, or anyone else for that matter. His hands were dirty from the ink, his fingers slightly swollen and sore. The white shirt was half-tucked in his trousers, which hung low on his hips. His hand rose to his right cheek as if on instinct to make sure his mask was still there. It was in its place but he adjusted it nevertheless and then ran a hand through his hair, trying to make himself somewhat presentable.

"I was working." He walked over to the piano, gathering the newly finished music scores, the black ink just drying on the pages as he stacked them on top of each other.

"On music." Edward remarked and saw his friend give him a look as if he were a simpleton, stating the obvious. It wasn't a question but Erik answered anyway as he moved about the room, putting back the unused sheets of paper and the pen and ink.

"Yes."

"Someone told me you were here since 5 o'clock?"

"Give or take." Erik shrugged. "What time is it?" He asked and watched as Edward pulled out his watch.

"Nearly half past nine." Erik was quite taken aback, he had no idea he had been here for so long. He hadn't got lost in his music like this since...since- "Is everything alright, Erik?" His line of thought was thankfully interrupted by Edward's question, though it left him puzzled.

"Of course. Have I given you any reason to think otherwise?"

"In the two years since I've known you, I haven't seen you touch an instrument, let alone compose music. You told me of your past and the reasons why you don't compose or play anymore. That's why I'm concerned and wonder at this sudden change." Erik was surprised by the genuine concern in Edward's voice and on his face, still unused to the feeling of belonging, of someone actually caring about his well-being and happiness. He let a small smile touch his lips, grateful for Edward's friendship.

"You need not worry, my friend. The melody simply wouldn't leave my head; writing it down is a way to push it back and concentrate on other things." He explained while tucking his shirt inside his trousers properly, rolling down the sleeves. He eyed his dirty fingers with mild annoyance and tried to wipe away the worst with his handkerchief.

"I believe most people get melodies stuck inside their heads. Just last week I could not get rid of that song from Verdi's _Rigoletto_ , Donna..." Edward trailed off, searching for the correct name for the aria. Erik raised an amused eyebrow and provided him with the answer.

"La donna è mobile."

"Yes, that is the one." His friend rocked back and forth on his feet, looking at Erik expectantly. After two years of knowing the older gentleman, he recognized this habit - usually when Edward wanted to say or ask something but wasn't sure if it was appropriate. He knew that Edward would give in to his curiosity, so he simply waited. He wasn't disappointed, for his friend's silence didn't last longer than a few seconds.

"I just assumed that after last night there would be different things on your mind than music. And other things to touch." He finished with a grin and Erik wondered not for the first time why people just did not ask outright what they wanted to know. Raising an eyebrow at his friend, he sighed and feigned ignorance.

"What are you insinuating, Edward?"

"Last night you and Miss Renaud seemed _really_ friendly." He gave Erik a meaningful look before continuing. "I just wished to know whether you took my advice."

"I did." He said nothing further, refusing to speak about such personal matters.

"What did she say?"

"She accepted."

"And?" Letting out a heavy sigh, Erik pursed his lips.

"She was sleeping when I left this morning. That is my last word on this matter, Edward."

"Fine." Edward seemed a little bit put out by the warning in Erik's voice but his curiosity was somewhat satisfied. Erik gathered his newly composed music and strode over to the door.

"Come, we need to get back to work." He said gruffly and walked out, Edward right behind him trying to keep up with his long strides. They were quiet as they neared Erik's office until Edward spoke up.

"Maybe you just needed a little bit of inspiration to start composing again. And who knows? Maybe Miss Renaud has played her part in this." Erik growled in reply and almost could _feel_ Edward's triumphant grin. His friend's words echoed in his mind and he wondered why it was Christine's face in throes of passion that he was seeing while playing his new melody.

 

* * *

 

Around the same time and not so far from their location, the morning sunshine rays fell on Christine's face, slowly waking her up from her peaceful slumber. Slowly she became aware of the most comfortable mattress beneath her, the soft sheets around her body pleasantly warm and she wanted nothing more than to burrow deeply into the covers and go back to sleep. However, the nature's call was stronger than the pull of sleep and she rolled on her back and slowly blinked her eyes open. She focused on the white ceiling above her, noting that the crack of the plaster was no longer there. Shoving that thought aside, she stretched her arms high above her head and marvelled at the feeling of soft sheets against her body. That's when she realized something was different. Peeking carefully under the fabric, her suspicions were proven correct...she was naked! Her gaze darted around the room, the dark brown walls and lush furniture did not belong to her room at the Duchess.

The memories of last night came flooding back, colouring her cheeks bright crimson. She tugged the sheets closer to her body nervously, glancing at the other side of the bed. Relieved, she found it empty and when her hand drifted over the spot, she found it cool - Erik must have been awake for quite some time. She was glad he wasn't there next to her for she didn't know what to say to him or how to act after their night of passion. Just now she realized they had not spoken at all and communicated with their bodies instead. Explicit imagery filled her head at that thought and her blushed deepened. Deciding to push the events of last night back into her mind she sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She rose, her feet burying into the thick Persian carpet, once again stretching her body. She felt so wonderfully relaxed and her body felt lighter than it had in years.

Naked, she padded over to the bathroom and freshened herself up before returning to the bedroom, searching for her undergarments. She found them draped over the back of the desk chair and quickly pulled on her bloomers and chemise. There was no way she could tie a corset by herself and asking Erik to do so for her would be embarrassing, so she decided to leave it. She bit her lip as she realized her evening gown was the only thing for her to wear, even if somewhat inappropriate for daytime but she figured her cloak would hide most of it when she ventured outside. Her stomach growled and she decided to find something to eat first before dressing. The black dressing gown was still lying where she had dropped it early this morning and she blushed when the memory of it came back. She quickly pulled it on and tied the belt tightly.

She opened the door slowly and peeked around. There was no sign of Erik and the house seemed quiet. On light feet she walked down the hallway and now that she wasn't so nervous, took in her surroundings. She descended the stairs, taking a turn right to explore the house and eventually find something to eat. She smiled in triumph as she found a spacious dining room, yet still no sign of Erik. She hurried to the next door, opened it and froze. She found a kitchen but she did not expect to find someone there other than Erik. It was clearly a woman, dressed in simple black dress, her light brown hair pulled into a neat bun at the back of her head. She stood facing away from Christine but turned abruptly as she heard the door open.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't..." Christine stammered but the woman simply smiled and shook her head. Her face was round and kind and she looked in her early fifties.

"I did not mean to startle you, Miss. My name is Rose and I'm Mr. Garnier's maid." It was at that moment that Christine finally noticed the white apron tied around the woman's waist and felt very awkward just standing there barefoot in Erik's dressing gown. If Rose noticed, she didn't let it show but simply smiled at the younger woman. "The Master has instructed me to make you whatever you wish for breakfast and provide you with anything else you might need." Gently, Rose ushered Christine out of the kitchen and sat her down at the table in the dining room. "And that reminds me that he told me to bring a dress for you to wear, so after breakfast you just call me and I'll help you with it. Now, what would you like for breakfast?"

"Umm.." Christine's mind still reeled with all the information Rose bestowed on her. "Something sweet." Rose smiled widely and nodded.

"Coffee or tea? Perhaps some orange juice?"

"Tea, please. And orange juice would be lovely as well. Thank you." Rose nodded and scurried back to the kitchen. Christine sat in the chair unmoving, staring into space and wondering what had just happened. She really did not expect Erik to send his maid to see to her needs and was even more surprised at his forethought of having brought to her an appropriate dress.

It wasn't long before Rose rushed back into the dining room with her tea and orange juice and a moment later fresh croissants, bread, rolls, butter, marmalade, honey and a small bowl of fruit. Christine smiled at the energetic woman and thanked her profusely for the small feast in front of her. As she smeared her croissant with strawberry marmalade, she wondered whether he'd join her for breakfast or whether he had already eaten. But then again she didn't even know if he was still in the house. She made a mental note to ask Rose later.

With her stomach pleasantly full, she thanked Rose and bid her to come with her. Once again she entered Erik's bedroom, noting that the window was open to let in the fresh autumn air, the curtains were pulled back from all windows and the bed was already made. Rose laced her corset expertly, not as tight as she was used to. Then she helped her into a beautiful sunny yellow day dress.

"Rose? Where is Mr. Garnier?"

"He left very early in the morning, he should be in the theatre. Also, he left his carriage for you. Jules is instructed to take you wherever you wish, Miss." The kind maid provided her with a small satchel for her evening attire and accompanied her to the front door. Christine smiled, putting on her cloak and opening the door before turning to the older woman.

"Thank you, Rose."

"My pleasure, Miss. Good day to you." In front of the house stood a carriage with two horses and Christine recognized the driver from her and Erik's previous outings as he stood next to the vehicle, waiting for her with a smile.

"Good morning, Miss."

"Good morning, Jules." She smiled, pleasantly surprised by the servants' behaviour. They were all so kind to her. At the de Chagny residence, the servants were usually very cold, barely uttering a greeting in her direction unless she was in the presence of her husband or his family. She sighed and let Jules help her into the carriage, directing him back to the Duchess.

She took a last look at the house as the carriage set to motion, wondering if she would set foot inside again. Maybe Erik would bring her here after the Baron's ball. A shiver went down her spine at the thought.

* * *

 

Christine carefully opened the front door of the Duchess, wincing slightly at the small squeak. She had wanted to sneak up into her room undetected and her eyes darted around the corner to watch out for any curious females lurking around. She stepped inside quietly when the air was clear and shut the door behind her.

"Good morning, darling!" A rather cheery voice stopped her in mid-stride and she turned her head to see Elizabeth standing at the front desk, grinning cheekily. Christine groaned inwardly; Beth was the last person she wanted to see right now due to her insatiable curiosity.

"Good morning, Elizabeth." She greeted her friend politely and hurried up the stairs, her cheeks flushing red in embarrassment as she sat down on her bed, knowing it was futile to prevent Elizabeth from entering. The door clicked shut and she was trapped in a cage with a hungry lion. Or so she thought.

"So, imagine my surprise when I didn't see you at the breakfast today. Neither in the music room _nor_ your room." Christine's blush deepened. There was a short moment of silence as the older woman watched her, the corner of her lips twitching upwards.

"Relax, darling. I won't pry." Christine's eyebrows rose. Was this the same woman she knew? Surely not! She knew Elizabeth would want to hear _everything_ but Christine didn't know how to even begin to describe what had happened between her and Erik. "Because the look on your face tells me everything I need to know." This time her groan was audible, even as she collapsed sideways on the mattress, pulling a pillow over her head to hide her flaming cheeks.

Delighted laughter echoing down the hallway was all she heard as the door opened and closed again.  



	20. Memories

The same day the Duchess was bustling with activity thanks to the influx of new customers. The girls were all kept busy either switching places at the reception desk or doing some cleaning and washing up. Christine welcomed this distraction to keep her mind wandering to the previous night and her masked lover. Late evening, exhausted after a rather productive day, she collapsed into her bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The weather the following day stayed fairly nice and Christine decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood after breakfast. This time it was futile to trying to stop her thoughts from going over last night, the last few weeks and even the last 5 years of her life. Not for the first time she wondered how she had got into this whole situation. Being an escort and a lover to a man who had once loved her, a man that was once an enemy to her husband and childhood friend. The more she thought about it, the more she found the whole situation very surreal and she knew that if she told anyone the whole story, they wouldn't believe her. But fate played her cards again and here she was, reunited with the man she thought dead for the past two years.

She had missed him. Despite of what had happened between them at the Opera Populaire, despite of what she had once said about him and thought about him. She had not anticipated her reaction when Raoul announced that her Angel was dead.

 

* * *

_  
late February 1881_

_Christine sat in her room in the de Chagny country residence in Provence, perfecting her embroidery. It had been a couple of weeks since they escaped Paris after that terrible night and spring was just around the corner. She looked out of the window at the picturesque view; Provence was a really beautiful part of France and she enjoyed its countryside a lot. Yet there was something missing in her life and she couldn't figure out what it was. When she received another letter from the Girys, she often experienced bouts of sadness afterwards. She missed her foster family and the distance between them hasn't helped. Thoughts about her family always gave way to memories of the Opera and the ten long years she had spent there, gaining friends and later achieving her first singing debut. For unknown reasons, she felt an ache in her chest at the mere thought of singing and music. She missed both profoundly and even if it took a lot of courage to admit it, she missed her teacher as well, despite everything that had happened between them._

_Christine often wondered where he was and what he was doing. Where had he gone after the fire? Wherever he was and whatever he was doing, she prayed that he was happy. She did not have the courage to ask Madame Giry about her Angel's whereabouts, even though she guessed the former ballet mistress did have some connection with him. She didn't know how Madam knew her Angel for Raoul had not told her anything after his conversation with her after the Masquerade fiasco._

_She sat quietly, her embroidery forgotten in her lap as she stared out of the window, deep in thought. Raoul had left two days ago on a business trip to Paris. It was the first time either of them mentioned the city when Raoul's business matters came up. The question was on her tongue whenever she saw him, but she couldn't ask Raoul to make inquiries about her Angel. It would only hurt him. That's why two days ago, she stood on the house's threshold, waving her fiancée off as he left in his carriage, the question unspoken._

_Shaking herself from her thoughts, she sighed and returned her attention to the embroidery. There was a sudden knock on her door and upon calling 'enter', the housekeeper stepped inside the room, eyeing Christine with thinly veiled hostility._

_"The Master has returned and requires your presence in his office." The older woman said and Christine smiled, despite knowing that any attempts at being friendly with the servants were futile. It was clear to her that they disliked her, simply just for the fact that they did not think of her as a worthy wife to their master._

_"Thank you. I will see him right away." The older woman left without another word and Christine sighed. Why did Raoul not come to her and sent a servant instead? Placing her embroidery on the low table beside her chair, she rose, smoothed her dress and made her way downstairs to Raoul's study. She knocked on the door and entered when her fiancee's soft voice called out._

_His face lit up when he saw her and circled his desk to greet her. Taking both her hands, he kissed her knuckles._

_"Oh Christine, it's so good to see you again. I have missed you so."_

_"You weren't gone for that long, Raoul." She smiled and let him pull her into an embrace._

_"That may be true. Am I not allowed to miss my fiancée?"_

_"You certainly are." He smiled and gave her a small kiss before returning to stand behind his desk, shuffling the papers on its surface. "How is business?"_

_"Good, good." She watched as he looked at the desk in silence. "Christine, I have something to tell you." He paused and looked up at her. "I know we haven't really talked about that night back in Paris and I really don't want to bring all that up." Christine bit her lip and looked at her folded hands. "While in Paris, I found out what happened to...the Phantom." She schooled her expression into a neutral one, fear running through her veins as Raoul smiled softly._

_"It's good news, Lotte. They recovered a body from one of the tunnels at the Rue Scribe entrance. The tunnel's roof collapsed on him as he was trying to escape. He's dead, Christine." She swallowed a knot in her throat and nodded, feeling suddenly devoid of any emotions. "He cannot haunt us any longer." She stared at him as he took his seat behind the desk. "I told the cook to prepare something extra special for tonight, to celebrate. And we should discuss our wedding." He smiled at her and continued. "Until then I will be working here if you need me." She nodded and turned on her heel, closing the door behind her._

_Christine ascended the stairs and made her way to her room. Once inside, she sat down at the chair near the window and absentmindedly picked up her embroidery again. She sewed for a little while before a sharp pain entered her forefinger as the needle pierced her skin. She hissed and lifted her finger for inspection. A small drop of blood formed on its tip. She stared at it for a long time, even after it spilled and ran down the length of her finger, dripping onto her embroidery and ruining her work. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes burned with tears._

_It was then that she finally let the grief consume her.  
_

* * *

The laughter and squeals of children in a nearby park shook Christine from the painful memory. She could still recall that day as if it had been yesterday. Even though she now knew it was a lie and Erik was alive and well, the ache in her chest at the thought of him dying didn't diminish even now. His lies and transgressions didn't matter; he had been her friend for most of her life, even if he lied to her about being an angel. She now knew why he had felt the need to hide behind the title; it was Erik's defense mechanism against rejection. And yet, in the end she had shunned him as the rest of the world did. Now in hindsight, she understood his actions a bit more, something she couldn't comprehend a few years back. Christine had a lot of time to think about this during the past two years and while she could never forget, she had forgiven him long ago.

She only hoped Erik had forgiven her as well, for she was not without blame. She betrayed him, damaging their already fragile trust by ripping the mask from his face for the first time. She didn't know why she took his mask off the second time, exposing his ravaged features to the entire theatre company and the audience. The look on his face as she had done so would haunt her for the rest of her life and it was something she would never forgive herself for. He had cradled her so gently in his arms, caressing her hair as he sang of his love for her and what had she done? Exposed him at his most vulnerable. She was angry at herself and hoped that one day she could make amends with him.

People had called him monster, even Raoul. But she could see no monster when she had stood in front of Erik in his lair, her beautiful wedding dress getting soaked in the lake. There was nothing monstrous about him. She had looked into his eyes after she bestowed him with two kisses and could only see a heartbroken, lonely man. At that moment she had thought he would be happy with her decision but his green orbs had only shown grief, something she did not expect. And then, he had let her go. Of all the things she had thought he would do, she had never even contemplated that scenario. Again, _now_ she understood the depth of his devotion. In the end his love was selfless; he had set her free to be with the man she loved, wanting to see her happy even as he sacrificed his own happiness in the process.

Erik was not a monster. Monsters weren't capable of love.

Christine sighed and walked over to the small fountain in the park, watching as stone cherubs spouted water from their little trumpets. The sight made her smile for a while before another thought entered her mind. She had tried ignoring the memories of that night but found that she could no longer do so. She dipped her fingers into the clear water in the fountain just because; it was pleasantly cool but not freezing. Drying her fingers on her cloak, she looked around and spotted an empty park bench. She approached it and sat down, taking in her surroundings - the warm sun, the trees around her, the fallen leaves rustling on the pavement and the everyday sounds of horse's hooves clicking on the cobblestones, merchants enticing people to buy their products, couples going for a walk and children running around. But Christine's mind was elsewhere.

She gave her body to another man. Even more so, the man had been her teacher, her friend and confidante for more than a half of her life. A man she once feared and judged unjustly. A man who had tried to kill her husband on two separate occasions. A man who had loved her so completely he would kill for her. That night, once he voiced his proposal, she had been nervous but not afraid. Christine knew he would never hurt her no matter what and despite their past she trusted him. Her nervousness only escalated after she had left the comfort of his bathroom. To her surprise, his touch had washed away her reservations and it wasn't long before she had succumbed to the pleasure. She never knew it could feel like this, even though Elizabeth had hinted at such things. She had felt the dark creature of passion inside her crying out in joy as it was finally freed from the confines of her own mind and society's propriety rules. Erik had been gentle with her as he coaxed the creature out of her, bringing her to climax in a way she had only heard about from the members of the chorus. And then when they joined, he was intense and passionate, yet still gentle, helping her over the edge for a second time before letting go.

Christine knew it wasn't proper to compare the two men, let alone even _have_ any comparison but she could not help it. It had not been long after her marriage to Raoul that she figured out he was not very considerate lover and soon their lovemaking had turned into more of a chore for her. She had not felt a thrill when he touched her. It had been pleasant for he had been her husband and although their bodies were joined, she had not felt a deeper mental connection. That's why she now felt guilty. Sex with Erik had been amazing; he had been very attentive to her needs and put her pleasure before his own. And she had felt _something_ , even though he had seemed slightly emotionally detached.

She did not dare to put a name to those feelings he had invoked in her then. From what Isabella told her, she knew Erik no longer loved her. Christine knew not what his feelings for her now were. He wasn't hostile to her, or at least he covered it well, but his eyes no longer held that spark of adoration for her. She swallowed and felt an ache in her chest. She didn't want him to despise her or act like a stranger. She wanted to try and start over with their friendship, but didn't know whether he would wish it as well. Maybe when this was over, they could pick up the pieces and begin to heal.

Christine sighed. _When this would be over?_

She thought about the men who had forced her away from her home and killed her husband and brother in law. So far Christine had no indication that she was being followed all the way from France and she felt relatively safe. Perhaps they would never find her. However, she could not live with such uncertainty for the rest of her life. She needed to tell Erik. Their mutual agreement of ignoring any of their previous association was only a hindrance now as she contemplated how to approach the subject. She couldn't just blurt it out during one of their outings. She would have to call on him at some other time, however inappropriate that was.

The thought of seeing him again made Christine's heart beat faster.

 

* * *

 

After a few minutes she rose from the bench and made her way out of the park.

"Anna!" She heard a voice behind her calling out but she ignored it until they called out for a second time. She turned and saw a woman peeking from a carriage window. As the carriage slowly approached, she could see the woman was no other than Isabelle. The horses came to a halt and Isabelle beamed at her.

"Hello Anna. It's good to see you again, my dear."

"You too, Isabelle." She smiled at the black haired woman, glad to see a friendly face.

"I was doing some errands and now I'm meeting Edward in Savoy. No doubt he's pestering Erik during rehearsals." She rolled her eyes but grinned. "Perhaps you'd like to accompany me if you don't have any prior engagements? I'm sure Erik would love to see you." Christine bit her lip at the mention of the man she spent most of her walk thinking about. "And what is more, you will get to see a rehearsal up close!" Isabelle beamed at her and she smiled sadly, feeling a pang in her heart when she remembered the Paris Opera House and the good times she had spent there. Her friend's face was full of hope and she relented, pushing all her doubts away. She had to meet that man someday and if not today, then at the night of the Baron's ball. _Might as well get over it now._

"Okay, you have persuaded me."

"Splendid!" Isabelle opened the door and scooted away to let Christine climb into the vehicle. Once she was safely seated, Isabelle tapped on the roof and the carriage set to motion.


	21. Savoy rehearsal

"I'm glad you could come, Anna." Isabelle said once the carriage set to motion. "Though I hope I'm not keeping you from your engagements?"

"No, not at all."

"I'm glad." She gave Christine a friendly smile. "It's so exciting! Have you ever had a chance to look at rehearsals or go backstage?" Christine hid a sad smile; she had lived and breathed rehearsals and theatre for 10 years of her life. She missed it, missed everything about it: the hard work, the aching muscles from hours of dancing, the smells of powdered rosin, fresh paint and plaster, the beautiful dresses and make-up, the frantic clicking of Monsieur Reyer's baton against his score stand when he was displeased, the firm yet encouraging voice of Madame Giry, the sound of her cane on the hardwood stage, the sweet voice of her Angel as it echoed in the chapel...

Christine shook from her memories, not wanting to go down that road again. That was her past and she needed to focus on her present. She could not live in the past. She was alone in the world now, with no one to comfort her. She hadn't seen Madame Giry or Meg since her wedding to Raoul and the few letters they had exchanged had not made up for their embrace. Slowly over the two years the letters had become sparse until there was no correspondence anymore. She did not know whether they still lived in Paris and now regretted her lack of contact. Maybe they would have helped her had she asked them before leaving Paris, but she knew she could not possibly risk their lives. She had seen what the men were capable of and she didn't want any harm to come to her foster family. How she longed for her foster mother's arms and her dear friend Meg!

"No, I haven't." She said and hoped that Isabelle would buy her lie. Christine had never been a good liar. Good actress and bad liar. What an irony! For a while they rode in silence, allowing Christine a moment to sort through her thoughts.

She wasn't alone, not really. Her Angel was there with her but this time... As far as she knew he was still the same man but there was something different. At the Opera house, he had chose to hide behind a cloud of mystery and darkness and had kept his distance from her, yet she had felt his friendship around her as a warm comforting blanket. Even when he had been angry and very close to losing his mind, she had felt it around her. His friendship, love, anger and grief. Now he kept her at an arm's length. Of course, figuratively speaking. They could not get any closer than how they were two nights ago. She fought the blush that rose to her cheeks at the thought, looking out of the window, so her companion couldn't see. Isabelle chose that moment to speak up again.

"Edward has told me about you but he never mentioned how you and Erik met." Christine fought the panic that rose in her throat. What should she say? She was not ready for this question and Erik hadn't told her what to say as he probably hadn't expected anyone to ask her. Isabelle must have seen the look in her eyes and hurried to apologize. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Anna! I know it is not my business. Erik and my husband always tell me that I'm to curious for my own good."

"No, that is quite alright." Christine smiled. "We may actually have that trait in common." Isabelle's chuckle filled the carriage and Christine joined in shortly. She sighed, deciding to fabricate a plausible story for her and Erik. She could hardly tell Isabelle the truth. "We have been introduced at a gathering a few weeks ago." She blurted out, hoping the other woman would believe her. She hated to lie to her for she really liked Edward's wife and in other circumstances they would have become fast friends.

"Oh! I thought as much, though when Edward told me, I was surprised. I didn't expect Erik to court anyone, not after the two women who used him and broke his heart." Isabelle said with displeasure and Christine swallowed the knot in her throat. She knew she had broken his heart and was not proud of that fact, but used him? For some reason the ride to the Savoy theatre seemed longer than two days ago. "You must be a very special person for him to notice you, after everything. It is not easy for him to find a companion, let alone socialize. I know you are curious about the mask, everyone is, and I know you wonder what it's hiding. I will tell you, for I know Erik will never allow you to see, he's very self-conscious about it. It's a birth defect and I won't lie, it is not pretty." Christine dared not interrupt Isabelle; the other woman seemed lost in her thoughts, looking out of the window before turning to her.

"You must understand, Anna. Erik has not led a happy life." Her features were grief stricken and Christine felt a tug on her heartstrings. She suspected as much but having it said aloud by someone else, someone who knew him better than her, was painful and she felt a fierce wave of compassion in her chest. "He will tell you of his past, eventually. In his own time. I just wanted you to understand and be prepared for when the time comes." Under Isabelle's imploring look, she nodded.

"Oh goodness, look at me, getting all emotional." Isabelle laughed self-deprecatingly and laid a gentle hand on Christine's. "Deep down I know that you are a good person, Anna, and I believe that you will make him very happy." The conversation only grew more uncomfortable for Christine with every passing second. She felt horrible. She wanted to let everything out, tell Isabelle the truth about her identity and beg her for forgiveness. The pull was too strong and she too weak to resist it but when she took a breath and opened her mouth to tell Isabelle what was on her mind, the carriage came to a halt. "Oh, splendid! We've arrived." Her companion smiled at her in excitement and the door opened, allowing them to exit with the driver's help.

Her legs were unsteady as she descended on the cobblestones in front of the theatre, her knees shaking slightly from both the emotional stress she just went through and the nervousness she felt in the pit of her stomach at meeting Erik again. Isabelle hooked her arm around hers, in a gesture that was both friendly and trusting, and the guilt in her resurfaced as they entered the lobby. What was she doing?

 

* * *

 

The lobby was empty save for a few cleaning ladies who bustled back and forth but soon they spotted Edward walking in their direction, smiling broadly.

"Ah, it seems like I'm just in time. Hello, darling." He moved to kiss his wife, gently rubbing her swollen stomach. He released Isabelle from his embrace and turned to Christine. "And Miss Renaud, what a nice surprise." He kissed the back of her hand.

"It is nice to see you again, Mr. McNeil."

"I persuaded Anna to join me for the rehearsal." Isabelle said as her husband led them slowly through corridors.

"I'm not sure if that was a good idea, but I guess you couldn't have possibly known." Edward smiled nervously and gave Isabelle a knowing look.

"Testy today, is he?" She chuckled and shook her head in amusement. Edward grinned and nodded. "What happened this time?"

"I wasn't here when it happened but he was visited by Mr. Gilbert and Mr. Sullivan." Christine heard Isabelle suck in a sharp breath at the names of the famous composers and watched as the older woman smiled and bit her lip. She knew that their compositions were very popular even back in France but could not find what was so amusing about the whole situation. She decided to just listen in on their conversation, feeling a bit out of place and wishing she knew more about Erik.

"I can imagine how that went."

"You wouldn't be wrong, my dear wife. Apparently the two approached Erik with the idea of Savoy performing their works."

"Oh my!" Isabelle exclaimed and burst into giggles. "I would have loved to see that! What did he do?"

"He told them to leave and not to come back as long as he were the manager of Savoy or any other theatre. He was furious and spent the whole morning raving about it to me." Christine hid a smile; she knew of Erik's temper and if he disliked the works of the two men as much as she suspected, then she was not surprised at all by his outburst. As they neared the auditorium, she heard that the rehearsals were in full swing; the wonderful music was filling the whole space around them,

"Poor Erik." Isabelle sighed sympathetically, while still grinning, and turned to Christine with a more serious expression. "I did not expect this but now that we are here, I feel like I should warn you. Erik has a wicked temper _but_ he has learned to contain it to a certain degree."

The first time Erik had flown into a rage, she had been terrified. Even if his anger had been justified, she had been scared of what he would to her in that state. At the Masquerade Ball, he had been a compelling apparition, so very potent in his power, the anger just simmering under the surface. At the cemetery, his anger had been directed at Raoul. The last time she had seen him angry, no, furious, was when he had dragged her down into the bowels of the opera house after she had unmasked him again. She had not been afraid then, for she had known he would not hurt her. Christine acknowledged Isabelle's words with a slight nod as they entered the auditorium. She suppressed a smile as a very familiar and very angry voice rang throughout the vast space, making the music stop at once.

"No, no, no!" Her eyes sought him out and the sight was so unusual that she needed a moment to take it all in. Erik was standing on the stage among the performers, dressed in his usual black attire, although he was missing the jacket and cravat. The black vest was unbuttoned and the long sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His hair was slightly dishevelled, giving him a more youthful and less strict look. However, he was no less of a commanding figure as he stood there with his hands resting on his hips, glaring down into the orchestra pit. Her heart started to beat faster at the sight of him. He looked so comfortable, as if he belonged there; as if he had been doing this for most of his life.

"I have told you five times that your are missing the note. You need to focus more or I will not hesitate to hire another bassoon." He rubbed the visible part of his forehead with his fingers in frustration and then addressed the rest of the cast. "Everyone back on your marks, we will start from the beginning of the aria." The singers and dancers flitted across the stage to each of their positions. Christine was pleased to see that they were not afraid of him, and the trust and respect they had for him showed clearly in their faces.

She saw Erik was about to let them begin when he caught sight of their small group in the auditorium. The surprise was evident on his face when their eyes met for the first time.

"Take five, everyone." He commanded and her pulse quickened as he leapt from the stage with the grace of a panther and made his way over to their location in the aisle. A rare smile stretched his lips when his eyes focused on Isabelle and Christine swallowed a wave of jealousy, at once wondering why she felt that way. _Maybe because he had never smiled like that at her, that's why._

"Isabelle." He said softly in greeting and moved to embrace her. "How did the appointment go? Everything is well I hope?" His hand drifted over his friend's swollen belly so quickly that Christine wondered if she had imagined it.

"Yes, Erik, don't fret. Everything is as it should be." She smiled at him and cocked her head in Christine's direction. "Look who I brought today!" His eyes slid to hers, intense and curious, and her breath caught in her throat.

"So I see. Anna." He greeted and Christine could see the intent in his eyes. Was he going to kiss her? Embrace her? Both? She swallowed and waited but he reached for her hand instead and pressed a small kiss on the bare skin at the back of it, his eyes never leaving hers. A small spark of electricity spread through her body from the place where his lips had touched.

"Erik." Dear God, was that her voice, low and almost husky? She cleared her throat lightly. "I hope you don't mind. We met by accident and Isabelle was very persuasive." She heard an amused snort from Edward and light giggle from his wife, but couldn't make herself break Erik's gaze. The corner of his lips lifted in a knowing grin.

"Not at all. Please have a seat." He motioned to the third middle row and she spotted his jacket hanging over one of the seat's back near the aisle, a stack of papers and a pen resting on the seat cushion. Edward went first, helping his wife and she followed behind them, Isabelle sitting on her right and Erik's seat by her left side. She resisted the urge to fidget nervously on the red velvet cushion. However, Erik did not sit next to her and pulled himself up to the stage instead, summoning the performers again. It didn't take long until they were back on their marks and Erik indicated to the conductor with a simple move of his hand.

The music picked up and the dancers moved around the stage but she couldn't focus on them or the singing; her eyes were riveted to the man standing off the side, watching the rehearsal closely with a critical eye. He must have sensed her staring for he glanced into the auditorium, holding her gaze for a moment before turning them back to the rehearsal. She flushed at being caught and forced her eyes to the performers, her heart pounding in her chest. How could he make her feel this way?

"Stop!" His voice interrupted the music and everyone stopped. He strode across the stage, adressing the female lead soprano. "Your breathing was atrocious. You need to correct your posture - raise your chin a little bit higher, push your shoulders further back and don't slouch." As he explained all the steps, his hands moved accordingly, close but not touching the woman. Christine remembered his hands as they had drifted across her body on several different occasions and could not stop remembering the night a couple of days ago, when his hands had been _everywhere_ on her naked skin. She fidgeted in her seat, pushing the thoughts back. "Use your diaphragm to sustain the notes and push them out." The soprano nodded, a look of pure concentration on her face as she corrected her posture.

"From the beginning of Act One." Erik said to the conductor and leapt off the stage again, gathering the papers and sitting right next to her. She ignored the warmth of his arm and leg so close to hers and focused on the rehearsal, making mental notes, remembering all that he had taught her. The act ran quite smoothly and finished on a clear high note. "Thank you, that was much better. Take a lunch break, I will see you all in an hour." The cast chatted excitedly, pleased at their manager's praise and disappeared backstage.

"What do you think?" Erik turned to his friends and Christine and without thinking she started to speak.

"The soprano was a bit flat in the last aria, the chorus is half a bar late and you will probably need a new bassoon since the current one missed the note again." There was a resounding silence in the wake of her words and she realized belatedly she had spoken out loud. She could feel the stares of her companions on her and turned crimson. Edward was staring at her in surprise and Isabelle was smiling. She chanced a look at Erik. He was surprised, but there in his green orbs she could see he was pleased and it was the pride there that made that familiar warm feeling wash over her again. She smiled a little in her embarrassment as he nodded.

"That is what I thought as well." He said softly and let a small smile touch his lips. Next to her, Isabelle nodded but Christine still felt foolish for voicing her thoughts so improperly.

"This cast works very well, I dare say even better than the one from last year. This production will be a success." Isabelle gave Erik a smile, which soon turned into a cheeky grin. "Speaking of productions, I have heard that you had a delightful visit today." Christine's eyes widened and she swallowed a gasp. Never before she could believe someone could tease the Phantom so and get away with it. Erik's eyes narrowed.

"Mock not, Isabelle." His voice turned into a growl and Christine felt the hairs on her arms stood up. This was him as she remembered - the Phantom of the Opera himself. But then suddenly the stern look on his face broke into a small mischievous grin, causing a giggle to erupt from the older woman. She couldn't believe her eyes. Was it possible that the Phantom also had a playful, teasing side to share with his friends? Suddenly she felt guilty for not trying to get to know him better in Opera Populaire. If he had revealed himself sooner, where would they be right now? She shook herself from her thoughts at the sound of Edward's amused voice.

"I think I should take my dear wife home before she causes any more trouble." He ignored Isabelle's faux indignant look and continued. "Of course, we will take Anna home as well."

"Very well." Came from her left hand side as Erik stood, stretching his hand out for her to take. She did so timidly, his warmth enveloping her hand was almost too much for her to bear. He helped her from her seat and led her to the aisle, allowing the married couple to walk ahead of them as they went back to the lobby. Christine bit her lip and touched Erik's forearm to gain his attention. He stopped and looked down at her questioningly. The couple in front of them looked back and stopped as well.

"May I speak with you?" She said softly, aware of Edward and Isabelle exchanging a look.

"Of course."

"We will wait in the lobby." Isabelle said and tugged on her husband's arm, who seemed reluctant to leave. When they were gone, Christine was suddenly hyperaware of the fact that they were standing alone in a rather shadowed and secluded hallway. She swallowed and met his eyes.

"On the way here, Isabelle asked me how we had met." Even though it was quiet, she could hear the sharp intake of breath. "I know that she is not aware of..." She paused and looked away momentarily. "...of what I do and who I am, so I told her we had been introduced at a gathering a few weeks ago." He nodded, relief visible in the green of his eyes.

"That sounds very plausible. I apologize for Isabelle, she can be quite meddlesome at times." He spoke with a fond grin; it was clear that Erik held his friend in a high regard. "Shall we?" He motioned in the general direction of the lobby and Christine nodded, falling into step beside him. As they all said their goodbyes, Erik kissed the back of her hand again, reminding her that he would pick her up for the Baron's ball in two days.

The unexpected rush of excitement almost made her head spin.


	22. The Ball

"I will open it. Don't think I won't!"

"You wouldn't!" Christine exclaimed with indignation at Elizabeth's remark, her eyes leaving the wrapped box she had been staring at several times over the two days. The box had arrived two days ago when she had been visiting the Savoy theatre with Isabelle. She remembered vividly when Elizabeth had handed it to her with a wide cheeky grin.

"Then just open it yourself and stop staring at it." The red haired woman sighed in exasperation and twirled a lock of hair around her finger, leaning back in the armchair in Christine's room. "You will have to do it eventually. The ball is starting in less than 5 hours." She reminded her with a wink and Christine began to panic. So far she had done nothing to prepare for the outing tonight evening, how would she manage in the 5 hours?

"Don't worry, that's plenty of time. You just go have a bath and then I'll send one of the girls to help you with everything."

"You won't help me?"

"No, I'm sorry. Andrew requested my presence before the ball. He has been very stressed lately and needs some relief before he has to play the perfect host." Elizabeth grinned and it took a while for Christine to realize her insinuation.

"Oh!" She said at last and blushed deep red. Elizabeth just laughed and winked.

"I will see you and your Mr. Garnier at the ball." With that, she bowed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Christine sighed, her cheeks still burning red. Needing something to do with her hands, she decided to drew up a bath, adding a few rose petals to scent the water a little bit. She undressed and stepped into the bath, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water. She closed her eyes and relaxed, her thoughts drifting aimlessly. She was looking forward to the ball, it had been two years since the New Year's Masquerade Ball at the Opera Populaire and she had not been to such event since then.

Christine reflected on how different everything had been from now. She had been young, naive and confused, torn between the gentle love of her childhood friend and the passionate love of her teacher. Everyone had been shocked at the Phantom's entrance but she had been only mildly surprised. After all, it was a masquerade and what a better opportunity to mingle with the crowd, be perceived as one of them? Instead he had chosen a rather dramatic entrance by drawing all attention to himself. He had been truly a vision in his red costume and white half-mask, moving smoothly and gracefully like a panther, giving commands and leaving no room for argument; the true ruler of his domain. But when he had addressed her, his demeanor had changed and she had felt drawn to him, much like the first time he had appeared to her. As she braved the stairs one by one, she could not look away from his eyes. The dark paint under the mask only had made the green of his irises even more intense and piercing but all she could see was the longing he had for her and the sadness that came with it. Under that adoring gaze she could only move towards him, wishing she could somehow ease that pain. She remembered wishing he would take her in his arms, strike up the little orchestra and twirl her around the dance floor. But her dreams had shattered when he had noticed the ring against her breast and yanked it away with anger before he disappeared. She had never told Raoul why she hadn't wanted to wear his ring on her finger and it was precisely because of Erik and his jealous rage. In the end it mattered little.

Her mind drifted back to present and she wondered whether her wish would come true. Would he dance with her tonight? Did he even dance? Surely he must have, a person with such natural grace would be a very skilled dancer indeed. She sighed and imagined them dancing as she washed her body thoroughly. Soon her thoughts were back on what had happened after the Faust premiere and she could not help but wonder whether he would take her to his home tonight as well. Her stomach was coiled in nervous anticipation and her body gave a slight throb at the thought of his hands and mouth on her skin again.

Unconsciously, her hand submerged again into the water and drifted lower, brushing against the dark curls between her legs. Christine squirmed and drew back a little bit, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. She had never touched herself that way before; when she had heard the ballet girls talking about it in whispers, she had been undoubtedly curious but never found the courage to try, thinking it was a sin. However, a few days ago when Erik had led her fingers to the place where they were joined, he had shown her a new world of pleasure. She cared not whether it was a sin or not; she had already sinned by lying with a man outside marriage. With a sigh her fingers dipped down again. Recalling what had felt good before, she experimentally moved her fingers, a low moan leaving her lips. She explored her body intimately until the pleasure inside her unraveled and boneless she sank even lower into the tub, breathing heavily.

Somewhat embarrassed by her wanton actions, she quickly washed herself and stepped out of the tub, drying her skin and hair with a fluffy white towel. Wrapping the towel around her body, she returned back to her room and pulled on her bloomers and chemise, biting her lower lip as she eyed the still wrapped box on her bed. It was time to reveal its contents. Christine didn't know why she felt nervous; she knew the dress would be beautiful and would fit her perfectly. With a slow controlled inhale she unwrapped the box and lifted the lid, gasping at its contents. She pulled the dress out completely and hanged it on her armoire, stepping back to look at the dress in its entirety.

Silk and taffeta of the finest quality, deep red in colour, with sparkling crystals in an intricate flower pattern near the bottom of the full skirt and across the sleeveless bodice - it was a dress fit for a princess and she could not get her eyes off it. As if on cue, there was a knock on her door and Amelia poked her head in, a friendly smile on her face.

"May I come in, darling? Elizabeth mentioned you might need help."

"O-of course." Christine stammered, still slightly taken aback by the exquisite gown. Her employer entered and closed the door behind her, noting the dress with a pleased smile, running one hand down the smooth fabric.

"I have never seen such a fine gown as this. And believe me, I saw many. You will look absolutely gorgeous tonight." Almost automatically she tied Christine's corset expertly, making her bosom seem bigger just as Beth had done and then helped her into the dress. It looked stunning, even with her hair still partially damp and no jewelry or make-up. When she peered into the box again, there was also a pair of shoes and a smaller, velvet box. Giddy, she picked up the box and opened it, smiling at what she found inside. The dress was elaborate and really, a jewel on its own, so the beautiful delicate bracelet and a pair of earrings were complimenting the dress without being too gaudy.

It wasn't long before she was completely ready, her hair pulled back from her face and cascading freely down her back and very little make-up on her face.

"Just as I predicted; you look amazing." Amelia caressed her hair with a motherly smile. "I will go downstairs, Mr. Garnier should be here soon." Christine just nodded, a small knot of tension forming at the pit of her stomach at the prospect of seeing him, interacting with him again. _Why did she always feel this way?_ Not five minutes passed and she heard Amelia call her from downstairs. Biting her lower lip, she gave herself a last look in the mirror and gathered her cloak, rushing through the hallway and down the stairs. Her breath caught in her throat.

Erik was there, standing tall and powerful with hands linked behind his back in the small antechamber, looking every bit a nobleman in his attire of black, except for his mask and shirt. She had to admit he looked just as handsome as when he was slightly dishevelled. She felt a thrill down her spine as their eyes met, his green orbs showing appreciation at her own attire. He helped her into her coat, shivering a bit when his white gloved hands brushed against the skin of her bare shoulders before bidding Amelia goodbye and walking out into the evening air.

 

* * *

 

When Erik saw Christine descend the stairs, he could do nothing but stare. The dress he chose for her was perfect in every way and she looked so beautiful. His wretched heart beat furiously in his chest, feelings from long ago trying to burst free again. He swallowed and squashed the emotions before they could escape fully. That was not who he was anymore and he would not be fooled again. This was only a game of pretend, a business transaction that would come to end soon. He ignored the ache that settled in his chest at the thought and greeted her politely, pressing a delicate kiss on the back of her gloved hand.

Helping her into the cloak, he reflected at how surprised he had been when she appeared beside Isabelle a couple of days ago at the Savoy. He was very pleased she remembered his teachings still as evidenced by her opinions of the rehearsal. He wished she took the stage again, leave this business behind her. This was not for her, that wasn't who she was. She belonged to the stage. They bid Amelia goodbye and walked out of the Duchess towards his carriage. They walked in comfortable silence and he helped her into the vehicle before climbing in as well.

"I have to thank you for the dress, Erik." His eyes met her dark ones in the dim light of the small space. "It is exquisite." He watched as she ran her hand appreciatively against her full skirt. The corner of his mouth lifted in a pleased smile.

"You are welcome. It looks stunning on you." A blush spread on her cheeks and he was instantly reminded of when she lay beneath him, flushed and panting. He shook the image from his mind and looked outside to try and calm his body's response. If she was willing, he would take her to his home tonight.

"Will Monsieur McNeil and Isabelle be joining us?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid. Edward is staying at home with Isabelle. She shouldn't be overtaxing herself at such events."

"Yes, of course." She smiled at him and the rest of the ride was spent in silence. It wasn't long before they arrived at the Baron's new estate and he jumped gracefully out of the vehicle, holding his hand out for her as she climbed the small steps carefully. The Baron's estate was brightly lit, like a beacon, while people arrived in their carriages for the event. He watched Christine's reaction; her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted in silent awe.

"Oh! It is beautiful." She said at last, looking up at him and smiling. He merely inclined his head. Indeed, it was a beautiful building and he was proud of his work. It had taken months of meticulous planning and his plans had been often redone according to the Baron's wishes but everything had come together at last. His keen ears caught appreciative whispers among the newcomers and he smiled to himself.

"Shall we?" He offered his arm and she took it without hesitation.

 

* * *

 

Christine was in awe. Erik was indeed a genius, not only in music but also in architecture and it showed with every building he made. Baron Marshall's residence was a huge mansion, every detail of the facade carefully planned and carried out to perfection, befitting and completing the building as a whole. Was there no end to Erik's talent?

As they entered, she spotted Elizabeth right away, her fiery red hair hard to miss. She was on the arm of the Baron, whom Christine couldn't see yet because of the newcomers greeting the master of the house. Soon it was Erik and hers turn for their greetings and she could now see the Baron clearly. He was tall and handsome, around his mid-thirties, dark hair and brown eyes. He smiled warmly at both her and Erik, shaking his hand.

"Good evening Erik, Miss."

"Good evening, Baron. Please allow me to introduce you. Anna, this is Baron Andrew Marshall. Baron, Miss Anna Renaud."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Baron." She made a small curtsy and with a smile he gave the back of her hand a small kiss.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Renaud. May I introduce you my lovely companion, Miss Elizabeth Watson." Elizabeth blushed prettily when Erik looked at her with a small smile and greeted her as any gentleman would. Christine hid her amusement and greeted her friend with a curtsy as well. "Please enjoy the ball." The Baron extended his hand in the direction of the ballroom and they moved away but not before Christine caught the discreet cheeky wink Elizabeth gave her.

Erik escorted her to the powder room and waited outside, while she put away her cloak and checked her appearance in the mirror. She stepped out only to have him offer his arm to her, leading her to the ballroom. She was thankful that the ball wasn't as large and grand as in the Paris Opera, it was much more pleasant this way. The voices died down as the Baron greeted everyone and thanked Erik for constructing his new beautiful home in a short speech. There was an applause as several heads turned to look at Erik. The corner of his mouth lifted at the acknowledgment and he inclined his head slightly in silent thanks. Christine found it still a bit odd, to see him so well respected, even admired, making a living by legal means and leaving his Phantom persona behind. The Baron signalled the small orchestra to start and soon the room was mingling with women dressed in beautiful colourful dresses led by their dancing partners across the floor.

Christine turned to Erik as he leaned towards her, about to say something when they heard a familiar voice of the Baron.

"Erik!" They both turned to see the man in question striding towards them with a smile, Elizabeth looking gorgeous on his arm in her moss green taffeta gown. Christine glanced at her companion and saw the displeasure on Erik's face from the interruption, which made her wonder what he had wanted to say.

"Baron." Erik greeted curtly but the man didn't seem to notice the slight edge to his voice.

"I would like to introduce you to some of my associates, they are dying to meet you. That is, if your lady allows." Erik's eyebrow rose and Christine hid a smile, giving his bicep a gentle encouraging squeeze. He looked down at her and she nodded slightly, still smiling.

"I will keep her company, while you attend to business." Elizabeth spoke up, running her hand down the Baron's arm. Christine watched in interest as the two interacted, the level of familiarity quite striking to her. The Baron smiled indulgently at his companion, caressed her cheek and pressed a delicate kiss on the back of her gloved hand. They were very comfortable around each other and if Christine didn't know better, she would say they were very much in love.

She let go of Erik's arm as Elizabeth disentangled from Baron's grasp and linked her arm with hers. They stared after the two men but soon they were lost among the dancing couples.

"You look beautiful, my dear." Elizabeth whispered to her friend, who blushed. "Your Mr. Garnier surely does have a good eye. I would let him dress me any day. The woman who will capture him will be a very lucky lady indeed." Christine froze; the thought of Erik with somebody else didn't cross her mind until her friend pointed it out and she felt a wave of jealousy overwhelm her for a moment. Furious at herself, she pushed it forcefully back, refusing to wonder where it had come from. What was happening? Surely she should be happy for him and not feel an ache in her chest at the thought of someone else under that adoring green gaze she had once known herself. Was she really such a selfish child still?

"Either way, you two look good together." Her friend continued, effectively pulling Christine back from her thoughts, the blush returning to her cheeks.

"Well, you and _your_ Baron aren't that bad either." She retorted, challenging Elizabeth's grin with one of her own. Elizabeth's eyebrow quirked but she didn't say anything. "I am surprised. You both seem...comfortable, almost."

"I have been his escort for quite a long time, Anna. I know him really well and in turn, he knows me, and I daresay, better than anyone." Her tone was light but Christine could see something was troubling her friend as she looked away, her eyes focused in the direction where the two men had left. She was curious as to the reason of her friend's wistful look but she knew better than to pry. They were both silent for a few minutes, just observing the dancing couples and conversing guests. It wasn't long before the two men returned and the Baron swept laughing Elizabeth onto the dance floor. With a smile, Christine watched as the two disappeared in the sea of moving bodies, feeling Erik's eyes on her all the while.

"May I have this dance?" The question that floated out of his mouth took her by surprise and she turned her head to look at him. The small wry smile playing on his lips belied his carefully constructed blank expression on the visible part of his face. Swallowing her excitement, she smiled up at him prettily and nodded her head.

"Yes, of course." Carefully slipping her fingers into his upturned white gloved hand, she let him lead her onto the dance floor, the crowd parting to make way and then closing behind them once again. The small orchestra finished playing the lovely Varsovienne and began to prepare for the next waltz.

"I would have asked earlier had the Baron not interrupted us."

"That is quite alright." Erik took her into his arms as close as propriety would allow and held her delicately, almost as if afraid she was going to break. His palm lay flat just under her shoulder blade and hers rested lightly on his bicep. As the familiar music of Tschaikovsky's _Nutcracker_ filled the ballroom, he led her skillfully across the floor, silent yet watchful for any collisions or tangled dresses. Christine's footsteps were light and she felt like floating in the air or dancing on a cloud. Once in a while he would glance at her, observing her reactions and comfort. Gliding across the floor in his arms, she was content like she hadn't been in a long time. Her time old wish came true and she spent every second savoring the sensations. All too soon the wonderful _Waltz of the Flowers_ was at an end and in her peripheral vision she could see the Baron and Elizabeth making their way to them.

He bowed to her graciously and asked her for a dance, which she accepted. It was not proper to favour one gentleman over the other anyway. While she was swept away into the crowds once again in a lively Galop, she caught a glimpse of Erik bowing to Elizabeth, who couldn't get rid of her blush around him even when dancing. She felt a small wave of jealousy when she saw him speaking with her friend shortly, though she had no time to dwell on that before their dance partners were switched again, this time for a classic _Schottische_. By the end of the dance, Christine was out of breath; she was clearly out of practice. It annoyed her that Erik didn't seem to have similar difficulties as he calmly led her out of the crowd.

"Would you like some fresh air?" He suggested and she nodded eagerly. He led her through the open french door to the balcony overlooking the vast gardens of the Baron's estate. They silently greeted an elderly couple occupying one corner of the balcony and went to stand near the solid railing. Through strategically placed lamps, the garden was glowing in a way she had never seen before. Christine was in awe; the view was most magnificent and the sky was clear, stars twinkling down on them. It was almost magical. She glanced at Erik with a smile and found him watching her.

"May I get you some refreshment?" He asked after a moment and only then Christine realized how parched her throat felt. She nodded gratefully.

"I would like some water, please."

"Of course. I will be right back." Glancing at the elderly couple, he gave them a small nod and disappeared inside. When the couple turned to her for a brief moment, she smiled and bowed her head. It was not proper to be left alone without a chaperone and Erik made sure that the couple were filling the role somewhat. Yet not a few minutes passed and an excited voice sounded from the doorway.

"Oh, Mabel and George! I did not know you were attending!" Christine turned at the voice and found another elderly couple standing in the doorway, beaming. "Come, we have to talk!" The woman who spoke started to drag the couple away, but they hesitated, looking at Christine. She simply smiled and shook her head.

"Go ahead, I will be fine. He will be back any moment now." They nodded and left, chatting happily among each other until their voices blended into the distant music of the orchestra. She was somewhat glad for their absence for she could now relax more and savour everything around her. She was still warm from the dancing, so the night chill didn't really bother her.

After a couple of minutes she was beginning to worry about Erik but presumed that he had been detained by the Baron or someone else wishing to speak to the renowned architect. She heard light footsteps and then felt someone's presence behind her. Even with her back turned she could feel it was not Erik. For some reason she always sensed whenever Erik was near and while it may seemed odd, she was comforted by the fact. However, now she started getting uncomfortable by each second, the cold suddenly seeping into her bones, making her unable to move.

The person began to speak and all the blood in her veins froze in terror.

"Good evening, Vicomtesse. I don't believe we were introduced properly."


	23. Turnabout

That voice...it was so familiar, even though she had heard it just once in her life. But that single occasion was burned into her memory for the rest of her life, just as the voice and the face that belonged with it. She stood frozen in spot, completely unable to turn and face her worst nightmare.

"Cat got your tongue, my dear Vicomtesse? Will you not greet me properly?" The voice taunted in flawless French, a hint of amusement barely concealing a sizzling anger beneath. She was completely terrified, too scared to move for fear of being caught and abducted yet wanting to flee to the safety of her Angel's arms. She relaxed somewhat, safe in the knowledge that Erik would be here soon and focused on that feeling.

"What do you want from me?" She whispered, already knowing the answer. The footsteps came closer to her and her breath caught in her throat in panic, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Oh, but you know what I want. I will not rest until I get it." Her hands balled into fists as she heard the footsteps even closer, stopping near the railing on her right side. In her peripheral vision she could finally see him - tall and broad, yet so very different from the last time she had seen him. He was no longer unkempt; dressed to the nines to fit among the ball guests, his dark hair slicked back. She turned her head slightly in his direction. There was no doubt about it; the tall man standing next to her was the same man who had held the gun to her husband's forehead and delivered the fatal blow, the very same black soulless eyes and evil sneer on his otherwise handsome face. She shuddered in disgust and looked back across the garden, wondering how long the fall from the balcony would be if she dared to escape.Right now death sounded more appealing than what she was sure they had planned for her.

"We want what your husband failed to give us. How unfortunate that he had to die. Maybe he didn't have enough of an _incentive_ to cooperate." Dread flooded her whole body at the insinuation behind his words. It no longer mattered how they found her, the important thing was what they were going to do. "I guess threatening his family didn't really work, though I have to say it was quite a clever idea to hide you away. It is very fortunate that your husband is not among the living, Vicomtesse, to witness your, shall we say, indiscretions? A woman of your status should not whore herself out like this." He waved his arm in the direction of the ballroom. "Although I guess that could be expected, with your past of fucking the Opera Ghost himself." He leered at her, the lust in his eyes all to evident as they traced down her body. She fought the shudder of revulsion, her stomach lurching.

"Maybe after you've given us the access to the de Chagny bank accounts, we could all have some fun. You have had no qualms about lying with a murderer." His comment struck a cord inside her but she refused to dwell on that thought for now. "Maybe we can even fashion a mask to remind you of the good old times in the Opera. Perhaps we could borrow some from your current client? Hm, of course we would have to kill him first, but that can be easily arranged." She only thanked God that he didn't seem to connect Erik to his Phantom persona. But perhaps if he did, he would not be so quick to presume a swift death for her Angel.

"Let me make myself clear, Vicomtesse. If you do not comply with our wishes, we would have to make a visit to the Giry household." Her gasp stuck to her throat as he threatened the well-being of her foster family. "Then we will continue with the friends you have made here, including the friends of your masked freak." The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. It was not just herself in danger. By not telling anyone of her problems, she put everyone's lives in danger, even the life of Isabelle's unborn child. That thought made her sick and tears stung at her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

"Leave them alone!" She demanded through gritted teeth, her jaw protesting from the pressure.

"We won't harm them if you fulfill our agreement. You have my word." _What worth does his promise have?_

"How can I trust you will keep your end of the deal?"

"You have no other choice." _He's right_ , she thought bitterly. "We will be in touch." There was a slight pause, in which she heard faint footsteps coming towards the balcony. _Please God, let it be Erik!_ She held her breath, waiting, her stomach coiled in anticipation. The footsteps stopped on the threshold and the feeling returned at once, almost putting a smile on her face.

_He's here._

"Excuse me, may I cut in?"

 

* * *

 

After the third person came to congratulate him on a job well done on the Baron's mansion and inquire about possible business cooperation, Erik was quickly losing his patience and wished that Edward was there to take care of the business side of things. He was already leaving Christine alone for too long and it made him nervous. He respectfully told them to direct their business correspondence to Edward and gracefully left to gather their drinks.

This was one part of his architecture business that he was not fond of - dealing with people and their endless questions. That was why he chose Edward as his partner, for they complemented each other rather well. Where Erik was reclusive with his thin patience and hot temper, Edward was sociable and had time for everyone. In a way he was jealous of his friend for he reminded him of the man he longed to be for his whole life and not a person who was despised since birth. While he was still wary and distrusting of other people, he had managed to make his life above the ground, earning money legally doing respectable work and being recognized as a talented artist and businessman.

He sighed, making his way through the crowd back to the balcony. His steps faltered when he heard a male voice coming from the opened doorway but he couldn't discern the individual words.He quickened his stride an in no time he was standing on the threshold of the balcony. There was a man standing next to Christine, his profile visible to Erik. He was quite a handsome man and Erik felt a small pang of jealousy before he noticed how Christine held herself. Her back was completely straight and her bare shoulders were tense, her whole posture rigid. He narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat, his hands tightening around the water glasses.

"Excuse me, may I cut in?" The stranger's head turned at the interruption but Erik kept his eyes on Christine. Her shoulders slumped a little and she was no longer so tense.

"Yes, of course. I was just leaving, actually." He said politely, a small smile gracing his clean shaven face. "Goodbye, Miss. Sir." He bowed to them and brushed past Erik, who watched him with a stony facade as he disappeared into the crowds. He turned back to Christine, who still stood by the railing with her back to him.

"Anna?" She let out a long and shaky exhale as if she had been holding her breath for a long time. Finally she turned slowly and his breath caught in his throat at the sheer terror that was written across her features. Erik had never seen her so scared like this; not even when she saw his deformity for the first time, nor when she had fled after Buquet or when his lasso was wrapped around her boy's throat. Her eyes were glassy, the tears filling them refusing to fall. Her chest rose and fell sharply as if she had ran a marathon. He crossed the short distance to the railing and set the glasses down. He wondered what had transpired between her and the stranger. Who was that man?

"What's wrong?" He asked but she simply shook her head as if it would stop the tears that were finally starting to fall. "Anna?" He laid a hand on her arm and before he knew it, her arms were wrapped around his torso, her whole body pressed to his as if she wanted to disappear inside him. Erik felt her trembling violently and put his own arms around her gently, offering her the comfort she seemed to crave.

"Who was that?"

"I don't know." She mumbled against his jacket, making her words somewhat muffled.

"Did he do anything? What did he say?" He felt her give a little shake of her head.

"I'm just scared of him." Erik knew there was more to it, but seeing how agitated she was, he was not going to pry for details. Pulling back slightly, he could see she was calmer now yet the haunted look in her eyes remained. He offered her the glass with water and she accepted gratefully, her hand shaking as she tried to bring it closer to her lips. He reached out and steadied her hand with his own, wrapping his long fingers around hers and gently lifting the glass, allowing her to drink.

"Would you like to go back inside?" Erik could tell that the prospect of going back inside and potentially meeting that strange man didn't appeal to Christine at all when her face blanched.

"C-Can you take me home, please?" Her large brown eyes looked at him imploringly and he knew he couldn't say no. He didn't wish to stay here any longer either; all the necessary social interaction had been more than enough to last a couple of weeks. Now Erik was eager to return back home and spend some time in solitude.

"Of course. Come." Leaving the two glasses sitting on the railing, he escorted her to the powder room and waited just outside the door. He gestured to a passerby servant and asked him to retrieve his hat and cloak from the gentlemen's cloak room. While he waited, his sharp eyes scanned the crowds; he spotted the Baron and Elizabeth dancing merrily in the middle of the room. It was the back corner of the room that held his attention though; the stranger was standing there alone, his eyes also scanning the crowds. The man hadn't spotted Erik yet, so he took the time to study the stranger. There was nothing remarkable at all about him, he looked like any other gentleman in this room. What made him different apart from the other men were his eyes; dark and sharp, they hid something Erik could only guess at but knew it was something evil. He had seen that kind of look before and an uncharacteristic wave of apprehension swept through him. _Who is that man?_

He didn't have time to mull over it for Christine emerged from the powder room, looking better and refreshed, already wrapped in her cloak. His eyes caught the servant with his hat and cloak as he made his way toward them. Erik took the items from his arms with thanks and pressed a coin in the servant's hand.

"Should we not say goodbye to the Baron?" Christine asked, searching for the man in question in the crowd.

"That is not necessary. Besides, he is obviously having a good time." Erik remarked with a slight smile, indication the Baron dancing with Elizabeth in the lively rhythm of a galop. "I would hate to intrude on that. I will write him a note tomorrow." There was a sound to his right side, a sound which sounded suspiciously like a stifled giggle. He knew what amused her so and was glad that at the very least she seemed better in spirit. He whisked her away from the estate and into the carriage, and they were off into the night.

"I am sorry I made you leave." All humour gone, her apology was sincere as she stared at him across the seat.

"Don't worry, we would have been leaving shortly anyway. I find that I have had quite enough of social interaction for a while." He gave her a wry smile, which she returned. "And I could very well not let you go alone in your distressed state." She nodded and sighed, looking out of the window. He watched her profile for a while as silence settled between them. Soon the carriage pulled up at the Duchess and he escorted her all the way to the front door.

"I hope you enjoyed the evening, despite everything." Erik said carefully as they stood at the threshold, Christine holding the door open with her back. She looked down for a moment but when she looked back at him, she was smiling softly.

"I did, it was lovely. I only regret we had to cut it so short."

"Do not worry about it, Anna. Good night." He kissed the back of her hand and she was glad for the cover of the night as her cheeks turned red.

"Good night." She smiled and sneaked inside, closing the door behind her, the hinges still squeaking slightly. He smiled to himself and went to the carriage, the incident with the stranger pushed back in his mind.

 

* * *

 

That night Christine slept fitfully, tossing and turning, the eyes and voice of the stranger burned into her mind. The skies were gradually lightening as she finally fell asleep. Having slept so little made her quite a sight at the breakfast table. Thankfully Amelia nor the other girls said anything and chatted among themselves, leaving Christine to her thoughts.

There was a task before her; a very difficult task which outcome she could not predict. She needed to tell Erik about Raoul, the extortionists and their demands and she knew she would have to eventually tell him about the detective Raoul had hired to find him. She was getting nervous just at the thought of it for she could not imagine Erik having a calm reaction to her news. She dreaded this confrontation but then again, she would rather face Erik's volatile moods than the promises of the criminals. It did not matter that Erik was practically a criminal, even much changed in his ways. The people she was dealing with were thousand times worse.

She ate her food quietly, staring out of the large windows in the dining room, the sun bursting through doing nothing for her current frame of mind. After breakfast she hurried upstairs and collapsed on her bed, trying to come up with words to say to him as she stared at the crack in her ceiling.There was no doubt Erik would be angry with her and, she thought miserably, he might not want to help her. Then again, why should he? He was not obliged to her in any way and certainly not obliged to her late husband. Was she really so foolish? Did she really think that he would help her because he had cared for her once? She shook her head miserably. No, he only needed her on his arm to social events and in his bed. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the memories of that night. Just then there was a soft knock on her door and Elizabeth entered, the surprise evident on her face.

"When I saw you leave last night, I thought Mr. Garnier had...you know." She waved her hands about her and Christine smiled, sitting up and leaning her back against the wall. "I didn't expect to find you here so early today."

"No, I wasn't feeling very well last night, so he took me back here." At Elizabeth's concerned look, she smiled to try and dispel it. "I am fine now. What about you? Did you have a nice evening?" Her friend's face lit up in a beaming smile, that told Christine everything.

"Oh, it was _so_ great! And don't forget I got to dance with your Mr. Garnier!" She giggle delightfully.

"Believe me, I will not forget your blushing the whole time!" Christine giggled when her friend flushed again. The brief respite from her dark thoughts was more than welcome and she enjoyed Elizabeth's presence immensely. "Can I ask you something?" She drew her bottom lip between her teeth.

"You just did." She grinned cheekily. "But go ahead."

"What did he say to you? I noticed he talked to you briefly."

"Oh. First I found it odd but then I realized that Amelia must have told him how you came to be at the Duchess. He actually thanked me for not leaving you on the streets." Christine stared at her friend in surprise; that was the last thing she expected. "Well, I'm off to have some beauty sleep. I did not sleep much last night. I'll see you later." Elizabeth gave a little wink and left.

Christine sighed and made a quick decision, putting on her bonnet and gathering her cloak, gloves and satchel.

"Anna, there was a note for you in the post box." Amelia stopped her in the antechamber before she was able to leave. "Going out?"

"Yes, I need to run some errands and I wanted a few things at the market." The lie flowed through her mouth easily and she accepted the little envelope from her employer. "Thank you." Putting on her cloak and gloves, she exited the building and hailed a brougham. As she settled comfortably in the carriage, she unfolded the note and read the contents quickly. Pale and heart thudding in her chest, she folded the note again and tucked it into her satchel.

She hoped that Erik still cared, if only a little, for this was going to be difficult.

 

 

* * *

 

At the same time in a different part of town, Erik was sitting in his study, having just arrived from the post office, his mask sitting within his reach on the table. He went through his mail when suddenly an envelope with familiar writing caught his eye. He smiled as he recognized his friend's neat handwriting and picked up the envelope, noting it was slightly heavier than usual. He broke the seal and unfolded the letter, his brow raising in surprise as a folded newspaper page fell out. He ignored it and began to read, his concern rising with every word.

_"Mon Ami,  
I hope that this letter finds you healthy and well. I know we have not been in touch for some weeks but things have been difficult. You know me and my daughter have been employed at the Théâtre Molière but hard times came upon the owners and they were forced to let go of all the employees. We have saved enough money and we still have a fair amount of money in the bank account you set for us. You do not need to worry about us for I believe I will find an employment soon, even if it means being a seamstress. Meg is growing restless being at home all day, so she spends her time looking for a job. I cannot believe how she had grown up in the last two years! I hope you will find the time to see us again sometime. I have missed you, my friend._

_There is also a reason my correspondence has been delayed. I debated for a long time whether to let you know but I feel that you must know, even though I know you will find it difficult. You probably already noticed the newspaper I sent to you. I encourage you to read it with open mind. I do not believe one single word in it but you should know what is currently happening in Paris. It is quite a scandal._

_I am really worried about my foster daughter, Erik. If you hear anything, please let me know._

_Yours in friendship,  
Antoinette"_

Confused, Erik unfolded the newspaper, the headline striking a wave of fear to his heart. As he read the entire article he felt himself growing angry, his heart galloping in his chest, his breaths shortening. He slammed the thin paper on the table and rose from the chair, grabbing a glass of water to settle his nerves.

He had a hard time believing the article, just as Antoinette had said. What had Christine got herself into? He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and looked out of the window. The truth was, the Vicomte was dead. The only person that knew everything was the person who was on his arm of various social events and shared his bed once. Turning from the window, his anger rose. What game was she playing? Was he some kind a pawn for her? He clenched his teeth. _No more._

Yet the more he thought about it, the more he found that something was not quite right. Thinking about the night they met, she had been scared when he called her Vicomtesse. And the strange man from last night, who scared her so? What part did he play in all this? For Erik was sure the man was somehow connected to her, but he could only have a wild guess as of how. Pacing the length of his study, he tried to make sense of everything, growing even more furious when he couldn't. Why didn't she tell him the truth? Surely even in their game of pretend she'd come to him if she were in trouble.

Suddenly there was a knock on the front door. _You're a fool, Garnier._ He closed his eyes and clenched his hand around the now empty glass. He took a deep breath and hurled the fragile thing at the wall, the glass breaking into thousand little pieces with a piercing sound. He smoothed his hair back, grabbed the mask and placed it over his deformity, intent on swiftly driving away the person who was at the door.

 

* * *

 

The carriage came to a halt in front of Erik's home. Christine got out the vehicle carefully, thanked the driver and pressed a few coins in his hand, sending him on his way again. She wrung her hands nervously as she looked at the building. She had second thoughts about coming here but a large part of her just told her to get on with it, no matter the consequences. The worst thing he could do was throw her out and refusing to help her. She knew he would be angry, but he would not hurt her. Gathering the last vestiges of her courage, she walked to the front door, placing her fingers on the knocker, knocking three times.

Cowardly, she wished he was not home but that thought was soon dispelled as she heard glass shattering from somewhere on the bottom floor. She could only imagine what was happening, hoped he would be in somewhat good spirits and wished that the sound was not as ominous as it sounded. Perhaps it was just an accident. Perhaps it was just Rose being clumsy in the kitchen. Swallowing several times against the knot in her throat, she waited even though every instinct told her to run. _Don't be silly. You have nothing to fear from him._

The door was opened with such a violent motion that she thought it would come off its hinges. She stepped back and beheld the man in front of her and every wish of him being in a good mood vanished like smoke. He was not only in a bad mood, he was practically livid and she could see the anger cloud his green eyes, making them darker and dangerous. It was a long time since she had seen him like that but there was no doubt about it.

In front of her, the Phantom of the Opera stood there in all his glory.  



	24. The Truth, part 1

Christine swallowed as she beheld the powerful man in front of her. His jacket and cravat gone, the vest hanged open on Erik's tall frame and the white shirt underneath was slightly wrinkled. An aura of danger encompassed him and the tight set of his lips hinted at his anger. She had no idea what had made him so livid, but hoped that he would listen to her. He would not harm her, of that she was sure, but in his current state she dreaded the outcome of their conversation.

"Ah, Miss Renaud. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Most people would miss the annoyance in his voice, but not Christine. To her, it was palpable and it made her wonder what angered him so.

"I-I came here to talk to you." She felt like a little child under his stare and that would not do if she were to have an adult conversation with him.

"I see." If he was surprised by her answer, the stony facade he put up hid it well. He made no move to let her enter and her trepidation ebbed away, mild annoyance settling in its place instead. She took a deep breath, contemplating how to make him see this was important and should not be discussed on his doorstep.

"I came here to talk to you as Christine de Chagny." Christine watched closely Erik's face for reaction. A dark look passed over his features as his eyes narrowed even more. His left eyebrow quirked before stepping aside and motioned for her to come inside.

"What a coincidence. I have been meaning to talk to her as well." The door was shut behind her with his words and she felt a chill go up her spine, feeling as if she was locked in a lion's den with no chance to escape. It was now clear and there was no doubt in her mind that he was angry at _her_. What if he somehow knew already?

"Shall we?" Erik didn't wait for her approval and simply started walking in one direction. Christine followed quickly into his study. Any other time she would have admired the high bookshelves filled with lines and lines of books, the cozy reading corner with a small chest table off the side and the dark polished surface of his large desk. Today she could barely concentrate on her surroundings, but she had noticed the shattered glass near the opposite wall. Swallowing against the knot in her throat, she unpinned her bonnet and took off her cloak and gloves. She watched him as he poured water from a pitcher into two glasses, putting one in front of her on his desk while taking a sip from his. With timid steps she inched closer and took the glass, lifting it with a shaky hand to her lips, watching as he turned his back and walked over to the study window.

"What game are you playing, Vicomtesse?" Christine cringed when her title left his mouth in a hiss. Confused at his question, her brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of it all.

"Game? I'm not." What did he mean by that? Erik turned his head to her, regarding her with a smile that was far from amused.

"Truly?" He didn't wait for her to elaborate. "I got a letter from Madame Giry today." There was a pause as he watched her momentarily before turning his gaze back outside. "That would not be so unusual in itself. The contents, however, were not what I expected." His steely gaze met hers again, the green of his irises ice cold and she suppressed a shiver.

"C-Contents?" Her voice shook slightly and she hated herself for it. She quickly placed the glass back on the table before she dropped it. That's when she spotted a newspaper page lying right in the middle. The letters of the short article were too small to read from such distance but the headline screamed from the thin paper for miles. Her heart pounded in her chest as panic took a hold of her.

_Oh God, no._

Carefully lifting her eyes from the damning letters, she saw Erik watching her. He knew she had noticed. He strode over to the desk, lifting the incriminating page from the surface, his eyes scanning the article again before connecting with hers.

"Please." He put the newspaper back on the desk and pushed it towards her, so she could see better. He went back to the window, his back straight with tension. Christine swallowed a picked up the _Le Temps_ article with a trembling hand.

 _"VICOMTE DE CHAGNY FOUND DEAD, WIFE A POSSIBLE SUSPECT  
Early yesterday morning, October 25th, 1884, Vicomte Raoul de Chagny was found dead in his family's residence just outside Paris. Shocked witnesses, mostly de Chagny's loyal servants, as well as the_ Sûreté _officers, report a gruesome scene in the nobleman's bedroom. The Vicomte was found dead from a gunshot wound in his head. The whereabouts of his wife, Vicomtesse Christine de Chagny nee Daaé (former diva of the Opera Populaire), are yet unknown. As La Sûreté reported, suicide had already been ruled out as the deadly weapon had not been found at the scene of crime. There had been no signs of a break-in or a fight between the Vicomte and his assailant. If the Vicomtesse doesn't step forward in the next few days with a testimony, she will be proclaimed a suspect and La Sûreté will issue a reward. If you have any information about the Vicomtesse's whereabouts, please contact your local Sûreté office."_

Christine put down the paper, feeling sick to her stomach. Her, a suspect? She had never even thought about what would happen when Raoul's body was found in their bedroom. She did not think of the consequences of her flight to safety, nor had Raoul. If she had stayed, the criminals would have found her easily. La Sûreté could not help her, for she didn't think they would believe her. What proof did she have? She could hear the possible rumours that people in Paris would have spun by now; the Opera girl possibly taking a lover, stealing her husband's money and running away. Her reputation in France was in shambles and she didn't know if she could ever return. At least not under her own name.

She took a deep breath and looked at the figure near the window. His body was still tense with anger but his shoulders seemed to sag with what seemed like a disappointment. She swallowed, her tongue feeling as if tied in knots. _Did he believe that article?_ She couldn't tell whether she was relieved that he broke the silence first or afraid of what he might say.

"Now, what was it that you wanted to talk about?" Erik gave her a sideways glance, already knowing the answer. His visible eyebrow quirked when she stayed silent. "You are capable of many things, Vicomtesse, but murder isn't one of them." He turned to her fully at last and added with a sneer. "At least I hope I didn't teach you _that_."

"I didn't kill him." Her voice was quiet but even. She licked her dry lips and continued. "I-I have come here to ask for your help." Her eyes dropped to the table, running back and forth over the article headline. "And to tell you the truth." She lightly gestured with her hand at the desk and when she found the courage, raised her eyes to meet his. He seemed calmer now, although she couldn't really tell if he only concealed his anger very well. He rested his back against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, head cocked to one side as he regarded her with a blank expression.

"Continue." He prompted and she took a deep breath, clasping her hands in front of her and wringing them nervously.

"The night Raoul was...murdered, he told me that his brother Phillipe had owed a large sum of money to some men. They had learned about de Chagny's family wealth and started demanding more. Phillipe didn't want to give them the money, so they staged his death as a run in with a thief. Those men...they had come to Raoul after Phillipe's funeral, threatening him. I didn't know about these men until that night." Christine chanced a look at Erik; he was listening to her but still the blank expression on his face remained. She wanted to slap it off, to get him to show some emotions, rage at Raoul and his brother, anything. Anything was better than this. She turned her eyes away and continued.

"It was after midnight, I was sleeping when he came to our bedroom." She heard a rustle of clothing as Erik shifted but didn't look at him. "He woke me up, telling me the truth. He wanted us to leave immediately for London, so I packed only the necessities. He said that if he ..." She paused, reliving the tragic moment. "That I should go to London no matter what happened. He told me..." She trailed off again, knowing what was to come next. "That you were alive. His friend in Scotland Yard, inspector Smith, was helping him to track you down here." Christine heard Erik's sharp inhale and looked up at him. His mouth was set in a grim line and fury blazed in his green irises.

"What?" To her ears it sounded less of a question and more of a demand.

"It is not as you think." She hurried to explain. "He did not intend to turn you to the Sûreté. He only tried to track you down after his brother's funeral."

"I find that hard to believe." Erik said in a growl.

"He trusted you were the only person who would keep me safe." She blurted out and refused to meet his gaze. However, after a few moments of silence she looked up to find him watching her. Suddenly he let out a soft humourless chuckle, his lips stretching into a sardonic smile.

"Trust?" There was the chuckle again; a derisive sound that grated on her nerves. "I did not ask for his trust!" His voice rose sharply and finally she glimpsed the angry side of him again. "I don't owe anything to him! Nor to you, Madame!" She cringed at the salutation. "Did he truly think you could waltz back into my life as if nothing had happened?!" Christine knew Erik was right; he certainly had no obligation to any of them and she was probably the last person he wanted in his new life. The ache in her chest intensified as she recalled the last moments in his lair - even though he may have moved on, the memories were still painful - for both of them. She wanted to turn back time and change everything, demand to honour his promise and keep her with him. Shaking herself from that train of thought, she once again focused on his tall form, now only a few steps away in front of her.

"There is more."

"I'm losing my patience, Vicomtesse."

"We heard noises downstairs and Raoul pushed me out on the balcony, where I hid. The door was kicked open and I saw three men enter. Raoul refused to give them any money or access to his bank accounts. They killed him, after promising they would get the information from me. I panicked and climbed down the ledge, took a horse and rode to Paris where I boarded a train to Calais and then London. When I arrived, I was robbed of all the money Raoul gave me. And you know the rest." Christine noticed Erik seemed mellower and less angry.

"I have a question." She gave a slight nod. "Who was that man last night?" She knew he would pick up on that quickly and steeled herself for his oncoming wrath.

"The man who shot Raoul."

"God." Erik closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair before he met her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me before? Why keep this...this charade all this time?"

"I had no indication that they found me. I felt safe." _With you._

"That was incredibly naive, Madame." She hated when he called her that and wished to hear her own name rolling from his tongue.

"I know that now. I'm sorry. I wish I could take it back. I have endangered everyone's lives with my foolishness." At his questioning look, she swallowed the knot in her throat and continued. "He threatened me. If I didn't give them the access to the bank accounts, they would hurt you. My friends." She paused, then added quietly. " _Your_ friends." A long silence stretched between them as he stared at her in disbelief.

_"Merde."_


	25. The Truth, part 2

For a long moment after that Erik stayed silent. Christine knew he was livid, it was written all over the visible side of his face as he stared at her. She refused to be intimidated by him and looked back defiantly, swallowing her nervousness. Her hands were still clasped in front of her and slightly beginning to sweat uncomfortably. Needing to do something with her hands, she reached into her handbag and pulled out the note she got earlier from Amelia. Her eyes quickly scanned over the small paper, before placing it on the table. Erik caught her movements and looked at the piece of paper sitting next to the newspaper article. Christine watched his eyes lower as he read over the note.

_"Meet us at the dock warehouse in two days time, after the sun has set. Come alone."_

The dark lashes framing his eyes rose once again, their eyes meeting for a second before Erik turned away and sighed, long and heavy. Christine looked at the ground; her head told her to run, yet her heart urged her to stay, even though it was obvious he would not help her.

"What was the name of the inspector again?" Her head rose up sharply when Erik spoke up at last, in what felt like hours but only was a matter of minutes. He was still turned, the white of his mask gleaming at her. When she didn't respond, his head turned lightly as he regarded her with his green eyes. She remembered her voice and cleared her throat.

"Inspector Smith." She watched him as he nodded to himself and began pacing the short length of his desk without sparing a single glance in her direction. His jaw was set, the muscles beneath his skin working under the pressure.

"On the morrow afternoon you will come to the theatre. Then I will be taking you to the Scotland Yard." Her eyes went wide; this was the last thing she had expected him to say. Deep down inside she had wished he would help her, knowing that despite all his past transgressions he was still a good man. After witnessing his wrath, her hope vanished. Hearing even a hint of something that would constitute as help left her feeling shocked.

"Y-you will help me?"

"To an extent." Stopping his pacing, Erik sat down behind his desk, reaching for a piece of paper and pen. Still shocked, Christine opened her mouth to thank him, but he spoke again, his eyes never leaving the paper, his hand never wavering in its movements. "Save your thanks, Madame. I am not doing this for you." She swallowed hard and nodded. She should have known but it still stung to hear those words.

"Why can we not meet near the Scotland Yard building?" There was a sound that reminded her of a chuckle, yet it was dark and humourless.

"You are being followed, Vicomtesse. I do not think our _friends_ would appreciate you talking to the police." Now that he said it, Christine felt like a simpleton. Why had it not occurred to her? God, what he must think of her. "Your childish naiveté was what got you into trouble in the first place." Erik finished writing and sealed the little envelope. His remark was completely unfair and unnecessary. She was no longer a child and he knew it. Was he saying that just to see if she would stay silent? Just as the weak child she had been once? She found herself getting angry and clenched her jaw. How dare he? She was no longer that meek and submissive girl!

"I was not a child a few days ago." She lashed out and froze as soon as the words left her mouth. She felt oddly invigorated; back in the Opera she would have never dared speak to him like this. His head lifted and his eyes stared into hers. She could not read the emotions in the green orbs, but his face darkened as he glared at her. She was aware he knew what she was hinting at and refused to look away. She was stronger than that. Erik remained silent as he stood up and she had to force herself not to step back. His eyes still bore into hers and even though it was not an appropriate moment, Christine thought them to be the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Their beauty was not lost even when they darkened or turned ice cold.

A sudden knock on the front door brought her from her train of thought and severed their stare as Erik looked towards the parlor. He gave her one last look and started towards the front door. A second, very much familiar voice, filled the parlor after a moment and Christine sighed in relief, thankful for the interruption. Two sets of footsteps came closer to the office and Christine turned to face the two men.

"Oh, I did not mean to interrupt. Why didn't you say something, Erik?" Edward McNeil berated his friend and greeted Christine with a polite incline of his head and a smile.

"Miss Renaud was just leaving." He gave her a look, as if daring her to object. Instead she gathered her belongings and turned to Edward.

"It was nice seeing you again, Mr. McNeil. Give your wife my greetings."

"Of course! She will be pleased to hear from you." She turned to Erik, watching as he picked up the letter he composed short moments ago and outstretched his arm towards her.

"Please give this to Madame Durant." With an almost imperceptible tremble to her hand, she took the note and nodded. "Those are the instructions for the next two days. I will see you tomorrow, Miss." Their eyes briefly met before she turned and started in the direction of the parlor. As she passed Edward, she noticed his bewildered expression and how he kept glancing back and forth between the two of them.

"Miss Renaud, let me walk you to the front door." She turned to look at the older gentleman, spotting Erik standing with his arms crossed near the window again, his masked side facing her.

"Thank you but it is not necessary, Mr. McNeil." She forced a brief smile, trying to appease the concerned look on Edward's face. "Gentlemen." Spinning on her heel, she walked out of Erik's office and his house. As soon as the front door closed behind her, she leaned against it, closed her eyes and sighed heavily. Too many a thought were swirling in her mind and the outside was not an appropriate place to sort through them all. Hailing a carriage, she returned back to the Duchess.

 

* * *

 

When the front door shut at last, Erik found that he could breathe a little bit easier. The whole confrontation frayed his nerves and left an ache in his chest. Why did everything had to become so complicated, so suddenly? He was content with pretending. He refused to let Christine intrude on his new life. He was quite happy now, which was something that had been alien to him for all of his life. After losing Christine, he hadn't thought he could ever feel that way. His heart had been shattered into pieces and the last two years he had been trying to put it back together, only to find her in his life again, wreaking havoc on his thoughts and feelings.

Erik was furious. At Christine, at himself, at her incompetent husband and brother in law in the face of the vile criminals. He grimaced inwardly; in the past, he would have been the one called a vile criminal and perhaps if the Vicomte had been alive, he would not hesitate to call him that. Although, what Christine had said...Could it be that the young handsome Vicomte could think of no other safer place to send his wife than where his enemy resided? Could it be true? Either way, the Vicomte certainly wasn't in Erik's kind regard. He had let Christine leave with him, believing that the wealthy patron would be able to look after her, love her and make her happy. Now it seemed he had not been able to keep her safe. What kind of a husband would fail to protect those he loves? Erik knew that had it been him in that situation, he would have moved heaven and earth for her. Even kill for her again.

The last thought wormed his way into his mind and he shook his head to clear it. _No, not anymore._

Erik was aware that Edward was still standing in front of his desk, probably confused by the earlier display. However, he knew his friend's silence wouldn't last long. His eyes slid from the window to the man in question, looking mildly bewildered at the spot Christine had stood.

"What was that?" Edward broke the silence at last but Erik didn't answer; he didn't know how. Even though his friend knew everything that had happened in Paris, Erik thought that this tale would receive only disbelief when spoken out loud. How had it come to this? Edward wasn't deterred by Erik's silence. "Erik? What happened?" He sighed and only shook his head.

"I don't think I have ever seen you so cross with the lovely Miss Renaud before. In fact, I have never seen you other than quite content in her presence."

"It is all just a game of pretend, Edward." His response was quiet, as if he was only talking to himself instead of addressing his friend. He looked back outside, watching as the sky darkened, heavy black clouds littering the once clear blue. It wasn't long before first raindrops pelted against the windowpane but Erik was comforted by the sound for it matched his current mood.

"What? Stop speaking in riddles, Erik, you know I loathe it."

"Miss Renaud came asking for help. Her husband failed to keep her safe and left her in serious trouble." Oh, how Erik loathed that boy! If he hadn't been dead, he would be happy to strangle the Vicomte himself. Edward's eyebrows nearly reached his hairline.

"Her _husband_?"

"He's dead."

"Oh." There was a moment of silence as Edward pondered the situation. "What kind of trouble? And why did she come to you instead of the police?" A long, suffering sigh filled the room. Erik knew that there was no way he could hide the truth from his good friend any longer.

"Her husband sent her to me." Edward looked even more perplexed and his expression was almost comical. However, nothing about this situation was comical.

"He what? Who was her husband? Did you know him?"

"Yes. Although I wish I did not. Sometimes I even wish that part of my life never existed." So much anger, so much jealousy and heartbreak; he had more than enough of that for his lifetime. Not for the first time Erik wondered what the world would be like if he hadn't been born, or had been born without his deformity. His fingers rose to trace along his mask cheek absentmindedly. Those were things he couldn't change - his face and Christine's feelings for him. No, he refused to dwell on such thoughts.

"Erik, what are you talking about?"

"I have told you about my past in France. About the Opera."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with this?" Erik could see Edward was growing frustrated by the minute.

"I guess I have never told you what Christine Daaé looked like." It has been over two years since he had spoken her name out loud. It was not as foreign as he had thought it would be. Quite the contrary, her name rolled off his tongue with ease. The silence stretched between them before realization dawned on Edward, his eyes growing wide.

"No, Erik. Please tell me it isn't so."

"Miss Renaud is Christine de Chagny." The incredulous look Edward gave him almost amused him.

"Are you insane?" His friend burst out suddenly, his voice rising. "I cannot believe you have...and all this time! And you never said a word! Why?"

"We agreed to pretend we didn't know each other."

"God! I cannot believe this, Erik! Don't forget Antoinette, Isabelle and myself had been there to pick up the pieces after she left! And now the viper is here and you _willingly_ let her back! And she's already wreaking havoc on your life! She brings out the worst in you!" Now angry again, Erik automatically jumped to Christine's defense.

"Viper?! Do not blame her for my own transgressions, Edward! She chose the handsome boy rather than the disfigured freak, I cannot fault her for that!"

"Don't talk about yourself that way! Why is she back then? Changed her mind and going for the second best option? You said so yourself, her husband is dead. Maybe she just wants you as a substitute to keep her bed warm." Erik turned from the window and stalked over to his desk. He refused to believe Edward's insinuations; Christine was not that conniving.

"Stop it, Edward." His voice dangerously low, he glared at Edward, who did not feel threatened at all. He was obviously angry as he continued his rant.

"And what are _you_ hoping to gain from this? Just taking the opportunity to do what you could not back in France?"

"I said stop it!" He thundered and at last Edward grew quiet. They glared at each other across the desk, eyes blazing, jaws set tightly.

"What does she want from you, Erik?"

"I have already told you. She wants my help." Much calmer now, they both sat down as Erik retold the whole story. "Please, do not say a word to Isabelle, any stress will not be good for her now."

"Of course." There was a short pause as both men contemplated all the facts. "What are you going to do?" Erik sighed heavily, his eyes locking with Edward's.

"I wish I knew."  



	26. The Plan, part 1

For the most of the short carriage ride, Christine was deep in thought, her mind going in circles over the last ten years of her life. How did everything turn out like this? All that she has ever wanted was to perform, find a good husband who would have supported her in her music, raise their children and eventually grandchildren. Those dreams were shattered like a fragile glass now. Her life was not a fairytale and there was no prince in shining armor. Her husband had been murdered, she was working as an escort and sleeping for money with the man who once loved her. What a mess had her life become! She was on the run, from both the police and the criminals. However, the latter found her and now she feared for her own life and those of her friends.

_Friends._

She sighed heavily. Could she still call him her friend? She did not think so and that knowledge hurt, for he was once her closest friend. Only hers. Now he could barely stand her, his standoff manner with her today was more than obvious. Whatever feelings he might have had for her in the past were gone. Her eyes burned and she blinked furiously to get rid of the awful sensation. What was wrong with her? The realization should have not hurt as much as it did. Was she really so selfish to want him still love her and only her? Why did it matter?

Christine didn't dare think what would happen once this would be over and the criminals would be punished. What would happen to her? What would happen to _them_? She didn't want to be an escort for the rest of her life. She had saved enough money from her earnings that she could leave the Duchess. But go where? Back to France? Back to de Chagny family? No, that was not what she wanted. She did not care for the life of a widowed Vicomtesse. Maybe she could try to find Madame Giry and Meg. What had Erik said? He had received the letter from Madame Giry, so he must have been in contact with her guardian all this time and known of their current location. Maybe when this was over, she could ask him about her foster family. Could she ask this of him, though? He was already helping her so much, why should he bother with her further?

Christine closed her eyes and let her head fall against the padded wall of the carriage. She could not think this far ahead, who knew what the next few days could bring. As much as she fought against it, her thoughts kept turning back to Erik. Such a complex man he was! She knew that deep down he was a good man. Not without fault, not perfect, for no one was perfect. He would do anything for those he loved. She had once made the mistake of misunderstanding his love for dangerous obsession and now she was paying for it. She didn't have Erik's love nor his friendship anymore. Christine didn't even know what they were to each other now, but she refused to stay in this perpetual uncertainty. She wanted her Angel's friendship back and would do anything in her power to win his trust once again. Not for the first time she wondered what would have happened if he had revealed himself to her months earlier. What would have happened to them? To Raoul? To the Opera house?

_Too many ifs._

She rubbed her fingers against her forehead in frustration. She had to focus on the present and her current predicament. Just then the carriage came to a halt in front of the Duchess. The driver helped her exit the vehicle. Thanking him with a smile, she turned and walked the short way to the house. Her employer was tending to the front desk at the moment and Christine could hear jovial chatter above her head.

"Welcome back, darling."

"Thank you." She smiled at Amelia and reached inside her purse for the letter Erik gave her. Amelia raised an eyebrow at the envelope with her name on it and pushed it open, her eyes scanning quickly over the paper. After she was finished, her head rose to give Christine a curious look.

"Where did you get this?" Swallowing her panic, she quickly thought of a way she could have got the letter. It was inappropriate to visit a customer's house outside of an outing, and even then she wasn't visiting Erik, her customer, but Erik, her Angel. She couldn't say anything to Amelia about it, for it would raise too many questions.

"I picked it from the mail box. What is it?"

"It's a letter from Mr. Garnier."

"Oh. What does it say?"

"He would like to see you tomorrow at 3 o'clock for an unspecified amount of time. Then again the day after in the evening as well. Wearing plain dresses." Christine's eyebrows rose at Erik's requests, but knew that visiting the Scotland Yard office and giving her testimony might take a while. Amelia just waved her hand and smiled. "Oh, well. not the most peculiar requests I have ever seen while working here. Are you okay with this?"

"Yes." She smiled at her employer, thankful that she didn't reject Erik's requests.

"Splendid. Now run along and get some sleep, it looks like you did not get much of it last night." Christine nodded and went up the stairs to her room, collapsing on the bed with a heavy sigh. Tomorrow would be a long day.

* * * * * *

The time seemed to fly by and the next day was there sooner than Christine would have liked. At the breakfast table she was distracted by Elizabeth's chatter with the other girls, which effectively stopped her mind from wandering. Afterwards she found herself alone in the music room, sitting quietly at the piano, many a thought assaulting her, memories worming their way out and into the jumbled chaos of her current state of mind. Lunch for Christine was a lonely affair, for the girls have already eaten and dispersed on outings or into their rooms. She didn't mind terribly, but would have been gladder for a company and some mindless talk, even if she didn't participate.

The clock chimed two o'clock before she knew it and her employer urged her to prepare for the outing. Her new day dress was plain dark green satin, though still very pretty even if it lacked in frill and lace. Putting on her bonnet, gloves and coat, she was ready just as Amelia called her downstairs, giving her a motherly smile and a wave as she closed the door behind her. Erik's driver Jules was ready by the carriage and greeted her warmly, which brought a genuine smile to her face. He helped her inside and they were on the way to the Savoy theatre. Christine felt strangely calm, no depressing thoughts on her mind for once as she was lulled into a peaceful state of mind by the soft clicking of horse hooves on the cobblestones. The carriage slowly came to a stop and Jules was there to help her out into the cloudy afternoon air. The Savoy theatre loomed above her, still as beautiful as ever. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the front door open. A young stagehand, no more than eighteen years old, showed her the way to the manager's office when she politely asked him for directions.

Christine walked the deserted hallway, admiring the interior design of the places she had not seen before. It was exquisite and made her miss the Opera even more. She reached her destination quickly enough and raised a hand to knock on the sturdy mahogany door to the manager's office. A few seconds later it opened and she came face to face with Erik again. She could not guess his mood but he looked calm and composed. Their eyes met and not for the first time she felt her breath catch. Every time she gazed into those striking green orbs, she found herself drowning in their depths.

"Good afternoon." He greeted her formally, his voice strong and even.

"Good afternoon." Christine responded timidly and watched as he wordlessly turned around to his desk, picking something up from a drawer. She couldn't see what he was doing but a moment later she saw his hands move to his head and next she caught a glimpse of the white mask as it disappeared into the drawer. Suddenly he turned to face her and her eyes went wide. Her head told her it was definitely her Angel standing in front of her, yet her eyes refused to believe what they were seeing. The right side of his face looked flawless, as if he had not been born with a deformity. She stared into his face perhaps too rudely as she examined the new mask he was wearing. It matched his skin tone perfectly and the edges were practically invisible unless you were specifically looking for them. It was strange seeing him this way.

She had never been scared nor repulsed by Erik's face. The first time she had uncovered him, she had been surprised, yes, but not scared. What scared her had been his temper as he had shoved her to the ground and spoken about betrayal, pain and love. His deformity did not bother her; she could still recall the different textures under her fingertips from when she had bestowed two kisses upon his lips. Her gaze slid unwittingly to his mouth only to dart away a split second later. This was no time to think about things like that. She swallowed and fought off her blush before daring to look back at him again. He was studying her, as if trying to read her thoughts.

"It will be better if we do not draw much attention. This will help me blend in better." Erik's explanation broke the silence before he fastened his cloak around his tall frame. He was right; even if they made the criminals believe they stayed in the theatre, extra privacy measures would not hurt. "Shall we?" Christine nodded wordlessly and followed him outside of his office and deeper into the theatre. He adjusted his pace to her shorter strides and she felt eternally grateful for that as they moved swiftly to the back of the building.

Pushing a small wooden door open, they entered a deserted alley in the back of the theatre. As with every upcoming winter months, the days grew shorter and the shadows grew longer at this time of a day. She felt a little uncomfortable in the dark alley. Erik had noticed her slight tremble and automatically reached for her hand, his large gloved hand enveloping hers in a gentle grip, giving her a sense of safety and protection.

"You have nothing to fear. The darkness is your friend. Find strength in it." Christine nodded and followed Erik's lead. She knew he had spent most of his life hiding away in the darkness, prowling the corridors in the Opera Populaire for years, becoming one with the shadows. As long as he was with her, she was not afraid. She watched him as they walked on; he was concentrating on their surroundings, his eyes darting from one place to another and still keeping them in the shadows from prying eyes. It was not a long walk from the Savoy to the Whitehall Place where the Scotland Yard resided, so they did not need to hail a carriage. In a matter of a few minutes their destination loomed above their heads and after a quick check to make sure they weren't being followed, Erik gently ushered her in. The entrance lobby was quite busy, milling with citizens, policemen and criminals alike. A sudden wave of apprehension filled her body and she inched closer to her companion, whose hand was still grasping hers. What if the policemen recognized her somehow? Did they even have a picture of her from _La Sûreté_ , in case she fled France?

At the front desk, a young police officer just finished filing a report from a distressed citizen and Erik saw the opportunity and stepped closer to the desk. Seeing her anxiety, he whispered to her.

"Let me handle this." She managed a nod, relieved that she did not have to speak with the officer. The young man smiled at both of them as they approached.

"Good afternoon, Madam, Sir. May I be of some assistance?"

"We would like to speak with inspector Smith, if he is present." Erik's voice was strong and even and Christine admired him for his calmness. The officer frowned a little bit.

"I am sorry, sir. Inspector Smith is very busy and does not wish to be disturbed." Her companion's eyebrow shot up and she felt his hand clench around hers. When he spoke next, his tone was more on edge and his eyes held a silent warning.

"I understand, Constable. However, this is a very important matter. If you could just say that Erik Garnier wishes to speak to him." Becoming more nervous by the minute, the young officer nodded.

"Right away, sir." Christine watched with some amusement as the constable left his post in a hurry. It seemed like Erik exuded authority also for people who were not under his employment. In her opinion, he would make a very good chief inspector. Before she could voice her thoughts, they saw the young officer, followed by a tall middle-aged man, who she presumed was inspector Smith.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, Mr. Garnier." He turned towards the young Constable. "Thank you, Thomas. I will take it from here." The inspector's gaze turned towards Christine, still partially hidden behind Erik's back, a hint of surprise in his voice. "Please, follow me." He led them into his office, shutting the door behind them. Erik helped Christine out of her coat and shed his own, placing them on a hanger nearby.

"Forgive me my manners. Madame de Chagny, Mr. Garnier. Please, take a seat." Christine did so with a relief; she was not sure she'd be able to remain standing on her shaky legs. Her companion, however, decided to keep standing, a few steps just behind her. The inspector's eye darted toward him for a moment but then focused back on her face. She knew the policeman was very well aware of just who Erik was and what he was capable of.

"My condolences to you, Vicomtesse. Your husband was a good man."

"Thank you, inspector." She resisted the urge to squirm in her seat; for some reason she felt uncomfortable discussing Raoul in front of Erik. "I do not know if you know the real reason my husband approached you." She began hesitantly.

"Yes, he told me most of it. At first I insisted that he should have contacted your local police but he didn't believe it would have been of any help and it would have put his family in more danger."

"That is the reason I have come to you for help. I fear for my life and the lives of my friends. The very same people who killed my husband are threatening me." She reached into her purse for the ominous note from yesterday and handed it to the inspector over the desk. She watched as his eyes darted over the little slip of paper and then his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Why don't you start from the beginning, Madam? The night your husband was murdered." Christine swallowed hard; she knew she would have to testify sooner or later but reliving those painful moments of the last couple of months again was difficult. From the corner of her eye she saw Erik standing nearby, tall and straight, his hands linked behind his back. His silent presence gave her courage, a feeling she could lean on him for support.

Taking a deep breath, she started to talk.


	27. The Plan, part 2

After she finished, Christine felt physically and emotionally drained. Reliving all that had happened once again was difficult and she had to gather all her strength not to break down in front of Erik and the inspector. She omitted a few personal details, such as hers and Erik's outings before the ball for there was no reason the inspector should know about that.

"That is quite a predicament, Madame. I did not fully realize the extent of this and I am very sorry it had to come down to this. I will do anything in my power to help you and get these criminals where they belong - behind bars. But there is also the issue of this." He picked up the small note she had given him earlier. "You are in a very dangerous situation, Madame and I know you realize that. So it is of an utmost importance to discuss our next course of action for tomorrow." There was a moment of silence as the inspector tried to find a way how to get out of this without putting anyone's life in jeopardy. After a few minutes, her companion spoke up for the first time.

"Gather your men, have them secretly secure the perimeter of the place. Have them strategically placed inside and surrounding the building." Christine turned her gaze to Erik in surprise. She had not expected anymore of his help after their visit to the Scotland Yard. She had imagined he would drop her into the inspector's care and leave. She was mistaken and she wished he knew how grateful she was for his presence and silent support. She didn't think she was strong enough to go through this on her own, even if she knew Erik wasn't doing this for her but only to ensure his friends' safety.

Inspector Smith looked at Erik in surprise and after a while nodded to himself.

"Yes, yes of course. I see where you're coming from. Excellent idea, Sir." Christine observed the chief inspector as he conversed with Erik. He seemed to have a lot of respect for the former Phantom and a little hint of fear glinted in his eyes. He knew of his past, _their_ past, therefore the slight wariness in his tone was understandable.

Christine had initially worried that by coming here, Erik would be exposing himself to the authorities and they would have deported him back to France where he would be put on trial for his misdeeds. But then again, the Opera Ghost was believed to be dead, so the charges against him had been possibly dropped the moment they found 'his' body. What if the Parisian police found out Erik was still alive? Would they reopen the case? Would they sentence him to death? She suppressed a shudder at her train of thought and pushed the horrifying images away. She glanced at him briefly and her heart skipped a beat. He was here, standing tall and straight with his hands linked behind his back, his chest rising and falling with each soft breath he took, his lungs filling with precious oxygen. He was here with her, so very alive, yet somehow distant.

Erik must have sensed her gaze on him, for his eyes turned to hers for a small moment. Her chest constricted at the thought that he could be wrenched from her life forever. Swallowing the sudden wave of emotions inside of her, she averted his eyes and looked back at inspector Smith, who was scribbling down some notes.

"Mr. Garnier, do you think those fiends will occupy the warehouse early on the morrow?"

"I do not think they suspect any tricks from Madame de Chagny." She hated how the salutation and her married name sounded from his lips, even though his voice was even and contained no venom. "I made sure we were not being followed here." The chief inspector nodded in satisfaction and it was obvious he believed Erik. If anyone could disappear without a trace, it would be the former Opera Ghost.

"Very good. I will send some of my men to make sure no one is around on the morrow morning and secure the location." The inspector paused for a moment and then continued, somewhat hesitantly. "Mr. Garnier, I say this with the upmost respect. I would like you to be there tomorrow, your... _expertise_ could prove very valuable to us. Besides that, I am sure your presence will also be beneficial to Madame de Chagny, since this is a highly stressful situation and a familiar face among strangers might help a little bit."

There was a moment of silence and Christine forced herself not to look at Erik. She was not sure how he would react to the inspector's hint at the Phantom's deeds. The rest of his sentence rang very true; his presence calmed her and she felt safe and protected when she was by his side.

"Yes, of course."

"Excellent. We will be expecting you early afternoon to go over our plans." Christine glanced at Erik and saw him nod in acquiesce. She remembered the letter he wrote to Amelia and realized he had been planning to go with her since the beginning. A peaceful warmth spread inside her chest at the thought; even if their current relationship left a lot to be desired, he would still make sure she wouldn't come to any harm.

The visit drew to a close and they both thanked the inspector and took their leave, Erik once again leading her through the shadows undetected. She felt like a ghost...and she liked it. She was not afraid, for he was with her.

 

* * *

 

That night Christine barely slept; her mind kept working, replaying the horror of the night she had fled Paris and had left her husband lie in a pool of blood. That imagery mixed with thoughts of what could go wrong tomorrow, horrific images of her being dragged away by the criminals as Erik and the policemen lay dying assaulted her mind. She tossed and turned until sleep finally claimed her shortly before dawn. She slept well into late morning, deciding to have a quick bath before lunch. Feeling refreshed and more awake, she joined the other girls for a meal, even though she didn't eat too much because her stomach was tied in knots. She dreaded the sunset with all her being and at the same time she wished it would be over.

She could not live in this perpetual state of fear forever, she wanted things to go back the way they were before. Guilt gnawed at her with the wish of never meeting Raoul again back in Opera Populaire. He had been her _husband_ , she should not have been thinking that! Yet had he not appeared, her Angel would not reveal himself to her as a man, a very potent and alluring man. Christine wondered whether she would have been happier without Raoul and with her Angel still being a disembodied voice and the Phantom a mere specter. She could not tell and she knew she shouldn't be thinking that. She had to admit she had been very naive to believe in the Angel of Music for so long but then again, how many times had she wished for her heavenly friend to be a mere mortal man? A real man from flesh and bones, a man she could touch and in turn, feel _his_ touch. Pushing further thoughts aside, she concentrated on what had to be done. She would dress and wait for Erik's carriage to take her to Savoy.

She chose a plain dark blue day dress and while she sat waiting for Jules to pick her up, she tried to think about everything but the situation she was heading into. It was not long before the carriage arrived. Donning her bonnet, gloves and cloak, her feet carried her over the threshold and to the waiting driver. Her smile was genuine when he greeted her with a smile, unaware of the turmoil she and his employer were in. She looked through the vehicle's window at the place she called home for the past few weeks, and hoped it was not the last time she saw the beautiful building.

In no time they stopped in front of the Savoy theatre and Jules helped her exit the carriage. With a quiet thanks and a smile, she stepped into the building, her feet carrying her automatically to her destination - Erik's office. When he opened the door, the first thing she noticed was that he was wearing the same rubber mask as he had yesterday and his jacket was missing. Neither spoke and Christine just watched as he put his jacket on but something caught her eye as he pulled the sleeves up his long arms. Her eyes widened and her breath shortened as she saw a thin rope nearly concealed within the right sleeve. Thankfully Erik was not looking at her, so she had time to mask her worry. She didn't want him to kill again, not in her name, and wondered whether the rope was a permanent add-on to his wardrobe even now. The slight fidgeting movement of his right arm as he finished buttoning up his jacket quickly disabused her from that notion. He tugged at his sleeve a couple of times and Christine averted her gaze; she didn't want him to know she was aware of the weapon he was hiding. He fastened the cloak around his body and they were on their way through the theatre. Once outside, her hand automatically found his as they moved through the shadows and after a few blocks hailed a carriage.

* * *

 

Erik instructed the driver to a hidden street near the warehouse to disguise their actual destination. He paid the driver and helped Christine out of the carriage, and as they walked stealthily towards the warehouse, his gloved hand still held hers in a firm but gentle grip. He seemed to know his way around, so she let him lead her. She took in their surroundings, surprised by the number of homeless men around the premises. They were unkempt and reminded Christine uncomfortably about the night Raoul had been murdered. Instinctively she pressed closer to Erik, her hand holding onto his a little too tightly.

"It's okay, you don't have to worry. These are all police officers. They are undercover." Christine stared at him. How did he figure that out? Casting a careful look in their direction, she studied the men in question. She found nothing that could give away their true identity.

"What? How did you know?"

"I was here earlier, before they arrived." Shocked, Christine could only focus on what he _wasn't_ saying. Catching her look of disbelief, he added reluctantly. "I do not trust them. Not completely." She gave a slight nod; it made sense. He didn't want to rely on someone incompetent and rather chose to investigate the place on his own. She imagined him sneaking around the unsuspecting police officers, moving around with ease just as he had in the catwalks of the Opera Populaire. She imagined him climbing in high places, pulling himself up with the hidden strength of his muscles, the same strength she had felt beneath her fingertips. She pushed the image away as they entered the warehouse.

It was not as huge as she expected it to be but certainly it was a large building nevertheless, made of brown bricks and two stories high. They could see inspector Smith in the middle of the spacious hall, talking with one of his officers. When he spotted them, he said a few words to his companion and walked over to them briskly.

"Mrs. de Chagny, Mr. Garnier." He greeted and motioned for them to follow his lead. "This way please. As you may have noticed, I have my men stationed outside the building, there are several officers on the second floor as well." On one end, there was a stack of palettes and boxes piled on top of each other and behind them was a temporary 'office' of sorts, made out of more cardboard boxes. Papers littered the surface, a lantern stood on one side and a couple of chairs surrounded the makeshift 'table'.

"You need to relocate some of your men." Erik spoke up and the inspector looked at him in surprise and confusion.

"Uh...we can certainly do that. Do you have a specific place in mind?"

"Do you have a blueprint of the building?" The older man hurried to grant Erik's wish and shuffled the papers on the box. Christine watched in silence as her companion bent over the blueprint, his eyes narrowing as they darted across the paper. He pointed to several spots on the map. "You need to put one of your men here, here and here. These are the weakest spots of the building, they can be easily exploited." Erik looked up and surveyed the interior of the building with a critical eye. "You have to have at least two officers near both inside and outside staircase over there." He sighed and looked back at the inspector. "All these precautions may seem to be unnecessary but the truth is, we don't really know what we're up against. It could be just the three criminals, it could be them and their friends." Christine shuddered and hoped that it was not the case. She was already anxious about her part in this and hoped that inspector Smith or Erik would tell her what to do soon.

"I agree, Mr. Garnier. We can never be too cautious in a situation like this." The inspector bent over the blueprint once more, tapping a spot in the centre with his index finger. "Is this the meeting spot?"

"Yes, I will be meeting them there." Christine's head turned sharply to Erik, her eyes only seeing his left profile. What was he talking about?

"Very well. I will now go and update my men." He gave a slight bow to them both. Erik turned to face her fully and watched the inspector go outside to his men. Once the man was out of earshot, she rounded on him, catching his forearm.

"Erik, what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"What you just told the inspector. About meeting them."

"Yes. I will encounter them myself." His calm indifference to the matter shook her to the core. Did he care not for his safety?

"But...you can't!" She exclaimed and he looked at her curiously, his visible eyebrow rising.

"And why is that, if I may ask?"

"You could be hurt! Besides that, they had asked me to come alone. You don't know what they will do if they see you instead of me. Therefore, I will be the one meeting them." Why was she even arguing with him about this? Why was she determined to do this on her own? Did she want to prove something to him?

"We have decided that _I_ am going to be the one luring them in. The answer is no, Madame." He said coolly and turned away from her. For Christine, this was the last drop.

"Stop calling me that!" She exclaimed, her arms no longer by her sides but moving restlessly. "And stop making decisions for me!" Erik whirled around, his eyes blazing. His cold fury only fueled her own anger. "I let you do that once and it had been a mistake!" She closed her mouth quickly, too afraid of saying more... _revealing_ more. They would not be here if she had been strong enough that night.

"You are not doing this and that is final." He spoke calmly, evenly, but his eyes betrayed his anger. "I refuse to use you as a bait, I'm not your husband!" Her eyes widened and without her volition, her palm connected with his left cheek. As the sound echoed around the vast space, she instantly regretted her rash action. He did not flow into a rage like she half expected him to. Instead, he just stared at her with darkened intense eyes, his jaw set tight. They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps and inspector Smith's voice.

"My men have been updated, Mr. Garnier. I have relocated some of them per your instructions, if you would like to check on them." The older man did not notice the tension between the two of them as he expectantly looked at Erik.

"Yes." He grunted and left without a backwards glance. She watched his retreating back until he disappeared out of the door. She sighed. She did not meant to hit him and was shocked by her own actions. She had never hit anybody, where had that come from? Of course, her nerves were frayed at this moment and fighting with Erik was the last thing she needed. She sat down heavily on one of the chairs. The kind inspector tried to make small talk with her, but her mind was elsewhere. Specifically on the masked man, who has not yet returned. Christine grew worried, it had been an hour since he had stormed out of the warehouse. Deciding to go searching for him, she excused herself, assuring the inspector that she would stay close by and not stray into unsecured location.

She walked around the building in search of the masked man, ignoring the curious looks of the undercover officers. She walked the whole perimeter but did not find him anywhere. She reached the outside staircase and stopped, her eyes following the steps onto the second floor and then the roof. Something drew her to the spot; something was pulling her there, telling her that she would find him on the roof. She felt the eyes of the two officers as she climbed the staircase, but thankfully they didn't stop her. When she reached the roof, she was slightly out of breath but as she looked around, she breathed a sigh of relief.

There he stood, like a lone warrior wielding his weapon of choice - his lasso. Christine wondered what he was doing but as she came closer, it became clear he was _practising_ on the small chimney pot in front of him. She swallowed and approached him on light feet. He didn't acknowledge her presence at first and rather focused on handling the rope. When it was concealed from her view, she barely had the time to blink before it wound itself around the chimney pot again. Erik went to uncoil the lasso from the object, giving her a sideways glance.

"I am out of practice." He spoke at last, halting whatever words were on her tongue. "I have not used it in two years." She stared at him as he handled the weapon with skill. She would have never guessed; the thin rope yielded easily to his hands and her heart beat faster when the lasso found its target again. He possessed unnatural grace, finesse and strength and it was fascinating to watch. She would have never thought she could be fascinated by something that caused death; something that had _almost_ killed her husband.

"Are you..." She began but paused when her eyes connected with his intense green ones. "Are you going to kill them?" She asked at last, anxious to hear his answer. He simply looked at her for a long moment; he did not get angry nor stormed away, his eyes only held calm certainty.

"No." He said softly. Relief flooded her whole body; she did not want him to kill again, not for her, not for anyone. "I swore never to do that again. And I will honour that promise until my very last breath." The conviction in his voice and the sincerity in his green orbs took her breath away. Christine nodded once and looked at her feet, aware of Erik tucking away the rope.

"I am sorry I slapped you." She mumbled and gathered enough courage to look back up at him. He was watching her, with the same calmness, and she wished to know what he was thinking. "I do not know what came over me."

"It is understandable in these circumstances. Don't worry about it." He spoke in a low, even tone, not a trace of anger in the rich timbre of his voice. With those words she felt lighter but deep down she knew she didn't deserve his forgiveness, not after everything. How could he forgive her so easily when she didn't have the strength to forgive herself for so many things? Here he was, ready to come face to face with her enemies in her stead, willing to risk his life for the safety of others and ultimately, her own. She had dragged him into this mess and she knew that she would never forgive herself if something happened to him tonight.

"I'm frightened." _Of losing you._ Her eyes filled with tears at the confession, her breath coming in short gasps. His eyes grew sad, softening further as he continued to watch her. She desperately needed to be comforted, to release some of the pent up stress from her situation. Her vision grew blurry but she saw his shape as he took a step closer to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. Her lip wobbled at the comforting sensation and her feet carried her the remaining distance until she was pressed against him, her arms encircling his torso, the smooth fabric of his vest caressing her cheek. She could tell he was taken aback by her forwardness for his muscles stiffened. After a moment he somewhat relaxed and brought his arms around her small body. She let out a shuddering sigh and embraced him tighter. He was there, so real, warm and solid under her hands and cheek as she listened to the rhythmic thump of his heart; the ultimate symphony of his body comforting her own heart and soul. She squeezed her eyes tight, allowing a few cleansing tears to escape down her cheeks and relished in his embrace.

They stood there like that a few moments longer before he gently withdrew from her. Somewhat embarrassed, she brushed the tears from her cheeks hastily before he spoke.

"Come, we should go back. The sun is setting."


	28. The Plan, part 3

On their way back inside the warehouse, Christine could see that with the sun setting every officer was on alert. She knew Erik was making sure everything was secured from the way he kept glancing around before they entered the warehouse again. Inspector Smith was sitting on one of the chairs, a low lamplight illuminating the makeshift office. The older man seemed rather calm and greeted them both with a nod as they approached. Christine took a seat as well, fearing her legs wouldn't support her for much longer. Her stomach knotted at the thought of what was about to happen.

She watched as Erik crossed over to the makeshift desk and turned the lamp off, plunging their safe little corner into semi-darkness. The windows allowed some of the ambient twilight to filter through, painting shadows in the recesses of the room and across Erik's face as he remained standing.

"We should go over our plan again, Mr. Garnier, now that Mrs. de Chagny is here with us as well." The inspector spoke in low tones, only loud enough for them to hear. She swallowed and Erik only nodded in acquiesce. "Madam, Mr. Garnier will be meeting the criminals on your behalf; we need to ensure your safety and get the confession out of them before we can arrest them. We will stay here, where we can see and hear what is happening." She could only nod; she still didn't like Erik facing the murderers alone.

She looked at the man in question and found him with his back turned towards them. What was he doing? When he turned back, she felt the inspector fidget slightly in his seat. Erik had replaced his new mask with the white half mask, giving him almost a sinister look as it shone in the darkness while the other side of his face was shadowed. She knew he chose this mask to intimidate his opponents. He made an imposing figure, mysterious and dangerous but she wasn't afraid. She felt comforted by his presence, no matter what mask he wore. She did not mind his face, was not repulsed or afraid of it. It was just a face but one that made him very unique and all the more dear to her. Her gaze fell to his hands as he reached out and offered her the new mask. Automatically her hands rose and she accepted the object, surprised at how light it actually was. Their eyes locked for a moment before he turned yet again to survey the interior. She took that time to study the mask with her hands, learning the soft and pliant texture. She had never seen anything like this and wondered what material it was made of. It was warm from where it rested on his face and she resisted the urge to bring it closer to her and absorb his heat. He had entrusted her with it, giving it to her for safekeeping and she cherished it as the gift it truly was, even if for a little while.

"You will stay here, no matter what." He spoke quietly as he turned back to her. She was ready to protest but he silenced her with one hard look. His gaze slid from her to the man beside her, who gave a nod. He would ensure she stayed in her place.

Suddenly, voices drifted from the far end of the warehouse and they could see light from lanterns illuminating three figures. Christine's heart started to beat faster. _This is it._ She looked at Erik as he quietly grabbed the lantern from the desk and gave the Inspector a small nod before his eyes connected with hers for a brief moment. Her breath hitched in her lungs at the intense look he gave her. In the next second he was gone, making no sound as he went to face the criminals. Christine shifted closer to the palettes, looking through the gaps in between them. The three men stopped in the center of the room, their profiles visible to her eyes. Somewhat adjusted to the dark, she could see a tall black shape making its way towards them. Not knowing what to do, she did what she hadn't done in a long time; she closed her eyes and prayed.

_Heavenly Father, please protect him with the shield of Your strength and keep him safe from all evil and harm. Please give us strength and watch over us in this dark hour. Amen._

With her eyes still closed, she added a prayer to her dear father.

_Dear papa, please protect this man, my Angel of Music, from all evil and harm. I know I have behaved horribly to the man whom you have sent me but if we see through this struggle, I promise to right all the wrongs I have caused him. I hope we can mend our friendship for I know now that I cannot be without him._

Her prayers calmed her a little and she opened her eyes after a long moment. A voice roused her from her thoughts and she froze.

"Where are you, Madame la Vicomtesse?" There was a distinct sneer in that voice that called out to her and she immediately knew who it belonged to. The two remaining men chuckled and in the dim light she could see those were the men that assisted in the murder of her husband. She could see Erik closing in on them soundlessly and a few seconds later a fourth lantern was lit, surprising the three men The two accomplices took a step back when they finally saw the figure holding the lantern, so that it was illuminating the white of his mask and casting the other side of his face in shadows. Their leader did not seem intimidated and stood his ground.

"Monsieur Garnier." His voice was a hiss, while Erik seemed unfazed by the anger that was simmering in the criminal's eyes. "Where is Madame de Chagny? I have asked her to come here alone and here she goes and sends her _lover_ instead!" He spat in rage and Christine could see a beginning of Erik's smirk. She failed to see the humour in this situation and hoped that the criminal's mind would not snap and put the masked man in danger. She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the soft mask, holding it in a protective grip against her chest. She felt quite embarrassed for the Inspector did not know the whole truth of her relationship with Erik since she came to London and having it said in this manner brought a flush to her cheeks.

"You know my name Monsieur, yet I do not know yours." Christine did not think Erik's request would be met by anything but silence. She was mistaken as a few moments later, the criminal answered coolly.

"My name is Pierre Therriot but that is not relevant. Where is Madame de Chagny?" He repeated his earlier question and she could see his patience was wearing thin. Vaguely she heard the inspector scribbling down into his notepad, marking the criminal's name, whether it was false or not.

"That is unimportant. She did not send me as you suggested; she merely told me of her plight and I decided to help her." Erik's voice was calm and even as he spoke. Pierre snorted derisively.

"Help her? How? How could _you_ possibly -"

"I am offering you twice the amount." His interruption shocked both Christine and the criminals, who exchanged looks. She had no idea he was this wealthy, his riches could surpass even the Chagny fortune. Or was he bluffing?

"Quite impressive, I must say. What are your terms?" Erik's visible eyebrow rose. Was Pierre really considering his offer?

"You will leave Madame de Chagny and her family alone. You will have enough money to spend the rest of your lives comfortably."

"Tempting. However, we have been looking forward to enjoying the Madame's...shall we say, treasures?" Christine's stomach churned at the implication and the suggestive tone in Pierre's voice. "She apparently has a thing for criminals. Did you know she was quite willingly spreading her thighs for a murderer before she met her husband? Maybe she can do it again for us. After all, she is nothing but a whore." Christine swallowed her soft gasp and clenched her eyes shut. She wanted to press her hands against her ears and no longer listen to the lies Pierre was spouting. The ground did not raise to swallow her up, much to her dismay. Her eyes opened when silence met her ears and she focused on the masked man. His countenance changed rapidly, his whole posture stiff, his free hand clenched into a tight fist, his eyes radiating unleashed anger.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Monsieur." His tone was even but the burning fury underneath made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Pierre's goons looked uncomfortable but the leader himself did not or chose not to see the other man's rage.

"Is that a threat, Monsieur?" Pierre's sinister smirk filled her with dread. "The Vicomte was easy to kill. You see, he did not have to die that night if only he cooperated." She watched as Erik slowly bent, his eyes never leaving the three men in front of him, and placed the lantern on the ground. It was then that Pierre's goons reached for something under their jackets and she belatedly realized they were armed. She found herself raising from her seat in terror but a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her and pushed her gently but persistently back in her place. Wide eyed, she turned to the inspector.

"No, Madam, let him deal with it." He spoke to her in hushed tones, careful about not being overheard.

"But they have weapons!" She whispered harshly.

"Yes, I know. Just as Mr.Garnier knew the risks he would be undertaking." Christine swallowed, her heart heavy with fear. Her eyes involuntarily returned to the scene in front of her.

"Maybe not that night. But in time you would want to acquire all his riches, including his wife. And he would be in the way."

"You are more clever than I thought." Pierre grinned but it lacked the humour. Erik just watched him with narrowed eyes, unmoving, his expression devoid of any emotion. "I believe we have reached an impasse, Monsieur. I think we will take you up on your offer, however, that does not mean we will relinquish our previous plan so easily." Erik kept silent, only his visible eyebrow rose. Pierre continued.

"Killing you would be too easy. No, we will find the lovely Vicomtesse and we will make you watch while we have some fun with her." She saw a muscle twitch in Erik's jaw as he clenched his teeth together. "Then, she will be forced to watch as you die slow and painful death." He let the threat sink in but was surprised when a short, derisive chuckle came from the masked man. Christine closed her eyes and curled her fingers around his mask. _Please, Angel, do not provoke him so._

"You are more foolish then I thought."

It happened in a flash, so quickly that Christine did not register what was happening at first. Erik seemed unfazed and he hadn't moved an inch when a gun was pressed to his forehead. He looked as if he had been expecting it. Christine, however, had not, and a gasp stuck to her throat. Terror gripped her chest and she swore she felt her heart stop before it redoubled its pace. She had trouble breathing as she took in the scene before her. It was much too familiar and she blinked back the sting of tears. _Please God, this cannot be happening again._ He had put himself in her place, being the bait he had forbidden her to become.

Only then did she realize the truth behind his earlier statement. She had not thought of it much at that time, but the truth was, Raoul _had_ used her as a bait to capture the Phantom. She had not wanted to do it, how could she? Even after everything, he still had been her Angel of Music, her friend and confidante for the past 10 years. Those years simply could not be erased, no matter how much Raoul had tried or belittled them. Where _had_ he been when her father lay on his death bed? Where had he been when she needed a friend, a shoulder to cry on? He had forgot about her completely and only when she had stood in the spotlight for the first time, he had taken notice. But not Erik, her Angel of Music, her Phantom. He had been a constant in her life.

She had glimpsed the real man behind the mask in the past, and even more so during the last few weeks. Now she knew that the mask not only shielded the distortion of his face, but also the feelings he held in his heart, afraid of being hurt. She saw him devoid of all of masks as he sat beside his bed, cradling the small music box in his hands. Her heart broke as she approached him, a small seed of doubt being planted in her mind. That doubt did not leave her even after they fled the Opera.

When Raoul came bearing the news of her Angel's demise, she felt something die inside her. Half of her felt hollow, void of any emotion. It hurt, sometimes even to the point of an actual physical pain. When she was subjected to the ridicule of her husband's acquaintances and he did not stand up for her, she often retreated inside herself, wishing her Angel was there to soothe her as he had done so on numerous occasions when the ballet rats were bullying her. She felt guilty afterwards for she had a husband and it should have been _his_ shoulder she wanted to cry on, yet she never confronted him about his friends' behaviour. She did not wish for him to regret marrying her, so she became the obedient wife who smiled at the appropriate times while adorning her husband's arm on various soirees.

Shaking herself off from those memories, her chest swelling with emotion as she watched the scene in front of her unfold. It took her seeing Erik stare in the face of death with stoic calmness to stop denying what she felt. Since arriving to London, her soul felt whole again, even despite the circumstances. She could not lose him again, not when she just found him. Two years ago she didn't know her own heart but since then she had matured and now she understood. Christine had loved her husband with tender love of a friend. Her heart did not skip a beat when their eyes met, she had not felt a strange sort of breathlessness when he touched her. She had not deserved Raoul's love. He had expected from her more than she could give. Now, as she watched the tall masked man across the room, the time stood still. Her heart threatened to burst and she knew that the time of pretend was over.

She loved Erik.

When she finally admitted this to herself, it was as if a great weight fell from her shoulders. She knew it was such an inopportune time for inner reflection but the fear made her face her true emotions. She was no fool; those were not feelings of gratitude she felt for helping her. _Love._ Deep, dark and passionate, yet at the same time beautiful and gentle, so very different from the love she had shared with her husband. She prayed that it was not too late to let him know. Not in words, for she knew he would not believe her not matter how many times she told him, but in actions. The possibility of rejection did not deter her; she needed him to know even if he did not reciprocate.

"Maybe it is you who is foolish, for coming here on her behalf." An ugly sneer twisted Pierre's face as his pistol pressed more firmly against Erik's forehead. Terror gripped her heart, yet strengthened her resolve.

She would not allow anyone to tear them apart again. Not even death itself.

She cared little for her fate but she would never allow anyone to hurt her Angel again. Confident in her love for him, she rose from her seat and shrugged off the inspector's hand on her shoulder. Erik's mask fell from her hand, landing on the seat she just vacated.

She knew what she had to do.

Picking up her skirts, Christine ran in their direction.


	29. The nightmare is over

As she ran, Christine realized she had no true plan. In her terror, she did not think but acted on impulse; it did not matter what happened to her, she only wanted Erik to be safe. Foolish move, to be sure, and one she was certain would make him furious. However, she saw in her mind's eye as Pierre's hand tightened on his gun, his finger squeezing the trigger. She could not get the image of Erik lying in a pool of blood from her mind and that drove her even faster to her destination. She would rather risk his wrath than the other option - his voice silenced forever.

"No!" The loud cry echoed around the vast space and as the men turned their heads in her direction, she realized it was her own voice. From the corner of her eye she could see Pierre's sneer and breathed a sigh of relief when his grip loosened on the revolver and let his hand fall by his side. Her focus was solely on the tall masked man though, and she glimpsed a myriad of emotions in his eyes. Two of them were most prevalent; cold fury and an uncharacteristic look of apprehension, which sent a shiver down her spine. Slowing her pace to a quick walk, she finally reached them after what felt like hours but in reality took a couple of seconds. She boldly stepped in front of Erik, shielding his body with her own.

"Please, do not hurt him." She choked out, her breathing heavy from her run.

"Madame la Vicomtesse! I must say it is a surprise to see you defend your lover so valiantly. How sweet." He leered at her and she fought the urge to flinch. "Tell me why should I listen to you?"

"I will give you what you want." Christine felt Erik stiffen behind her but she paid him no heed; her eyes never left the fiend in front of her. His eyebrows raised, he looked genuinely surprised at her offer.

"You would do that?"

"I will give you the money if you leave us alone." A short, humourless chuckle was her only answer.

"No. Not when I have you just where I wanted." He studied her for a while, his dark gaze scrutinizing and making her feel uncomfortable. "I just don't understand why would you defend him so?" He asked at last and she swallowed the rising panic in her chest.

"Please, consider my offer." She was not above begging, she would do anything to save Erik's life, even if it meant sacrificing her own or something so inconsequential like money.

"Shut up!" Pierre's temper snapped and he raised his free hand. Clenching her eyes shut, she waited for the blow but to her surprise it never came. There was a low growl from behind her and when she opened her eyes, she could see Erik's gloved hand wrapped tightly around Pierre's wrist.

"You will not do that again if you value your life." The two goons behind Pierre actually recoiled from the menace in Erik's voice and even their leader looked somewhat unsettled, yet he raised his chin in defiance as his hand was shoved away.

"Very impressive." He cocked his head to one side and watched them both through narrowed eyes. "I am quite surprised I have not figured it out earlier." A sinister, cocky smirk stretched across his face. "You're the Phantom of the opera." Again, a derisive chuckle left his lips and he focused on her. "It should be no surprise to see you run back to the fiend before your _dear husband_ breathed his last to become the little Phantom's whore again." She could not explain how she knew, but she felt Erik behind her ready to strike at any moment. He was just waiting for the right opportunity. An opportunity she was only ready to grant him.

Christine took a step closer to Pierre and felt Erik's hand on her shoulder, stopping her from advancing even more forward. In a blink of an eye Pierre's gun was trained at her own forehead. She merely gave him a mocking smile.

"You are very foolish, Monsieur. There is one thing you forgot to do when facing the Opera Ghost." His eyes met hers, puzzled and questioning. She felt the fingers on her shoulders tighten, almost painfully so but she did not care. Raising her chin, she let the smirk grew a tiny bit wider. "Your hand at the level of your eyes."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Erik's left hand pushed her roughly down to the ground in one quick move. His right hand shot up at the same time, catching Pierre unaware as he forcefully knocked his hand with the gun up. The loud bang as it went off echoed all around the warehouse and rang in her ears. Dread gripped her but she breathed a sigh of relief for the gun was pointed at the ceiling and did not harm anyone. She watched in fascination as Erik's left hand, palm turned upward, connected with Pierre's jugular, while at the same time he brandished the lasso, catching the two goons by surprise as it encompassed both their necks at once. Pierre crumpled unconscious to the ground like a rag doll, while the other two men lost their grip on their weapons and sank to their knees. She vaguely heard shouting and saw the policemen running towards them, securing the criminals' guns and making sure they wouldn't escape. She let out a long, shuddering breath and closed her eyes.

It was finally over.

When she opened them again, she saw a gloved hand outstretched in front of her. Thankful, Christine slid her fingers into Erik's palm and he pulled her none too gently back to her feet. Her legs trembled as she watched him stalk away to inspector Smith, who had left his post and was watching the scene from a few meters away. She knew he was angry at her, even though the word did not accurately described his mood. By the set of his shoulders and the resoluteness of his step she could tell he was furious with her. He had the right to be, after all, she _had_ disobeyed him and put not just herself, but the both of them in danger. In her rational mind she knew what a foolish action it had been and she could count themselves lucky they managed to escape the situation unscathed. Then again, all rational thought left her mind the moment she saw the gun pressed against Erik's forehead and she knew she would do the same thing over and over again if it meant his safety.

Dusting off her skirt, she glanced back at the trio of criminals; the two accomplices were handcuffed and coughing slightly, while Pierre remained unconscious and under a watch of half a dozen officers. She approached the inspector and her masked companion, who did not even turn to look at her as she stopped by his side. The inspector looked rather nervous as he looked into Erik's scowling face.

"I will ignore the fact that you failed to detain this slip of a woman. All I ask is that you will personally ensure these criminals have a fair trial and that Madam de Chagny's name is cleared of all charges."

"Yes, of course. Thank you for your help with this case, Mr. Garnier, we would not have caught them without your help." Erik gave a curt nod and walked off in the direction of the makeshift office. The inspector cleared his throat and then turned to Christine. "Madam de Chagny, I will make sure your name and reputation are restored back in France, so you can continue your life peacefully. Should you have any more troubles, you can always contact me." He smiled warmly at her just as Erik returned to her side, tucking away the rubber mask. The policeman then addressed the both of them. "However before you go, I would like to see each of you in my office for your testimonies within the next few days." They both agreed and before she knew it, they were heading outside, her hand held tightly in his grip as he hailed a carriage.

He did not speak and she knew he wanted to be away from prying eyes before he unleashed his anger on her. He sat across from her and never looked at her, his intense green gaze focused on the scenery behind the window. The cold fury still emanated from him and was very palpable in the confined space of the vehicle. Christine wondered when she had stopped being afraid of his temper. _Perhaps the moment you fell in love with him._ She could not tell when it happened but cared little; it did not matter. Her fear of his anger was long gone and a whole another feeling rose up in her as she watched him from the corner of her eye, seeing the anger just barely simmering under the surface. To her shock, it was a mix of anticipation and excitement. She would let him rave at her until he was calmer once again and then she would tell him and show him how much he meant to her. Since the moment the police captured the criminals, she felt lighter, more carefree. However, she knew there were still issues that needed to be solved.

It did not take long for the carriage to arrive at Erik's house. He impersonally helped her out of the vehicle and then paid the driver. He strode into his home and she quickly followed, surprised he did not even look back to see if she really did. Before she could blink, he took off his cloak and gloves and stormed upstairs. Christine sighed; maybe this would take longer than she had previously thought. She took her time pulling off her cloak, gloves and unpinning her bonnet before following him upstairs. The only door opened that she dared to venture in was his room, where she eventually found him. It was dark for the moon did not shine tonight and the drapes were pulled back in all of the windows. When she saw him, he had already rid himself of his jacket and vest and was slowly undoing his cravat as if shedding the layers of his anger. He seemed less angry than before but she didn't see him too clearly to make a more precise distinction.

"Never _ever_ do that again." His growl shook her to the core and made the hairs on her arms stand up. Suddenly nervous, she turned and closed the door behind her, thinking of a response. She could not tell him she would gladly do it again and again, not yet. The soft click as the door shut echoed in the silence of the room. She turned back slowly and before she had a chance to say anything to her defense, he had her pinned against the hard wood door, his strong lean form pressed against every inch of her. The gasp that emerged from her throat was swallowed as he crushed his mouth to hers, any lingering thought on today's events vanishing like smoke until she could only focus on him, his body, his hands and lips on her. Talking could wait; she would show him how much she loved him first.

There was nothing gentle or loving in his kiss; it was urgent, angry, possessive and shocking in its intensity yet she responded eagerly, their teeth clashing on a few occasions as each fought for control. Christine needed him; needed to reaffirm he was indeed still alive and with her. Her kisses were almost desperate as she tugged on his lower lip with her teeth. He hissed and his hands slid from her waist to her hips. Boldly, she lifted one leg and curled it around his hip, uncaring if he thought her wanton. She only wanted him to fulfill the promise that each of his kiss burned onto her lips. Her arms curled around his broad shoulders, her fingers digging into the back on his neck and upper back.

Lifting his lips from hers to allow them to breathe, Erik focused on her jaw and neck, his lips ghosting across the delicate skin. She arched her back, exposing the long column of her throat for better access. He took the silent invitation and feasted on her flesh, sucking at the tender skin, occasionally grazing his teeth around the spot and then licking the small hurt away. There was no doubt in her mind that he would leave a mark. The idea of bearing _his_ marks on her body sent a delicious shiver down her spine in anticipation and she tried to press herself closer to his mouth.

His left hand abandoned her hip, sliding down her leg that was still curled around him and drew her skirts up as it went back up. His fingers seared her thigh through the thin cotton of her drawers and she wished for the barrier to be gone, wanting to feel his touch on naked skin. He too was still clothed and that would not do. His moist breaths felt heavenly on her neck while his other hand drifted up her waist, skimming over her covered breasts before stopping at the slightly lower neckline of her dress. Curling his fingers beneath the material and her undergarments, he gave a sharp yank until her breast was freed from the confines of her corset. He repeated the process on the other side until both her breasts were bare before his gaze. Goosebumps raised on her exposed flesh due to the cold that permeated the room, her nipples hardening. However, she did not feel cold; her veins were singing with life, spilling warmth into every part of her body.

Impatient, she tugged on his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers. Her nimble fingers struggled with the tiny buttons but soon they were undone and she was sliding the shirt down his shoulders and arms, exposing the impressive lines of muscle of his torso. His eyes were liquid fire, the golden specks in his irises burning into her as they met hers for a brief moment. Her mouth ran dry at the sight of him; she wanted to touch him, taste his flesh and perhaps even leave a mark of her own but for now she settled for the former as she ran her hands across the expanse of his shoulders and his arms, her nails biting into the skin of his biceps.

Erik trailed a moist path over her collarbone with his lips and tongue, slightly bending to continue to her sternum. Christine drew in a ragged breath when at last his tongue flicked her nipple, drawing it to his mouth and sucking hard, occasionally grazing his teeth against the sensitive bud. She shivered and a familiar rush of wetness pooled between her thighs. A sharp cry mingled with their harsh breaths as his fingers found her heat, exploring the folds of her flesh, his thumb pressing insistently against her throbbing bud. She gripped the back of his neck, her nails digging into the soft skin as his fingers dipped inside her, her whole body flushing. Her mouth fell slack as her eyes clenched shut against the wave of lust that he unleashed in her.

She groped for him blindly, pulling him in for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. Her tongue darted out and slid between his lips, exploring the cavern of his mouth, relearning his taste and texture. The groan that bubbled up from his chest made her mad with want, and even more so when he took control of the kiss, hungrily sucking and biting on her lips. She moaned into his mouth and ground herself shamelessly against his hand. She was past caring about her wanton behaviour or any rules of propriety when he made her feel this way, so uninhibited and carefree. As much as she loved his lips on her and the magic his fingers worked inside her, she needed more.

Christine's fingers slid around his neck and down his front, her fingernails raking a hot path across the strong muscles of his sternum. She paid brief attention to his nipples before moving along, swiftly undoing the button and zipper of his trousers. He moaned and pushed himself more of his weight firmly against her. She managed to slip the fabric and the breeches underneath past his hips, just enough for her hand to wrap around his straining manhood. Erik groaned long and hard but removed her hand quickly. She did not have the time to feel disappointment as he lifted her up, wordlessly urging her to wrap her legs around his hips. She willingly obeyed and his lips attacked hers with an urgency that threatened to overwhelm her, yet she responded eagerly, drinking from his mouth. He gripped her hips hard with both hands, stilling her movements and entered her in one sharp thrust.

Her eyes rolled back and she arched against him, their primal groans intermingling in the quiet of the room. She felt oddly titillated when she realized they were still almost fully clothed. Although she would rather be rid of her cumbersome dress and undergarments to feel his skin on hers, he felt too amazing to stop. Her shoes fell from her feet as she locked them brazenly behind his back. He pulled her closer as he drove into her hard and deep, her sensitive nipples brushing across the dusting of hair in the center of his chest. His mouth attached to the side of her neck, sucking and biting. His anger mixed with his passion and he took her mercilessly, never stopping his erotic assault on her body.

Bending slightly forward, her lips attacked the skin near his collarbone, sucking and grazing her teeth across the smooth firm flesh. She felt a familiar tingling sensation pool low in her belly as they moved against each other with urgent need. Her fingers delved into the dark hair at the nape of his neck, while the other hand gripped the back of his bare shoulder, her nails digging in what had to be a painful manner. He merely hissed, adding a little twist of his hips as he surged upward. White stars flashed beneath her closed eyelids at the exquisite feel of him inside her. All too sudden he came to a halt, breathing harshly against her neck. She moaned in disappointment, arching her back, drawing him closer with a tight squeeze of her legs around his hips. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw him looking at her, his irises reminding her of a stormy sea.

God, how she loved him.

His hands darted up to her chest, each grabbing a hold of the front of her dress. With a forceful tug in two opposite directions, the buttons at the front gave way, flying around them and hitting the wooden floor with soft clinks. He dragged the top part of her dress down her shoulders, gave her a smoldering look and resumed the rhythmic pump of his hips. Finally at least her arms were bare and she took the opportunity to curl them around his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. Her body was throbbing and she knew that wonderful pinnacle was easily within her reach. She clawed at his shoulders as the wave threatened to sweep over her but gave a cry of dismay when he suddenly stopped. Before she had the time to voice her displeasure, he tightened his hold on her and carried her over to the bed, laying her down on top of the covers. He withdrew from her, earning a small sigh from her lips.

Christine watched from beneath half-closed eyelids as he stripped, her cheeks aflame even though she had already seen him fully naked before. However, Erik paid no heed to her blush and swiftly divested her of her skirt, petticoat and drawers until she lay beneath him only in her thin chemise and corset. When he joined her in the bed at last, surprise flashed in his eyes for the briefest moment as she reached for him. He supported his weight above her with his arms, dipping low to lick and suck on the exposed flesh of her breasts. She moaned, her hand delving into his hair at the back of his head, and arched to press herself even closer against his mouth. He joined their bodies then; she whimpered at the sweet ecstasy of being so intimate with the man she loved. He resumed his earlier pace; deep, hard thrusts that had her close to the edge again within a few moments.

"I wonder what your _precious_ husband would say if he saw you now." Her eyes opened when she realized he had spoken in a low growl. Christine knew that Erik was angry and that he meant to hurt her with his words. "Spreading your thighs willingly like this." Her indignation grew, despite her arousal, and she found herself lifting her hand as if to strike him. However, like a flash of lightning, he captured both her wrists in a vice like grip, pushing them into the mattress on each side of her head. His eyes burned with angry fire, passion and lust and she found herself lost in the stormy green on his irises. She wondered how he hadn't noticed they had knocked his mask off completely as he wrestled with her arms. Unhindered by the barrier, she gazed at him with all the love she had. Regardless of her current anger at his words, seeing the unbridled mixed emotions playing across his face, _both_ the ravaged side and the flawless left side, aroused her unlike anything she had ever known. With a deliciously rough twist of his hips, she tumbled over the edge with a loud, hoarse cry, her back arching off the sheets, her muscles throbbing almost painfully around his length. She vaguely heard him groan as he suddenly stopped.

Erik withdrew from her but before she could protest, her world spun and she found herself lying on her stomach, her hips propped up by a small pillow. Her heart pounded and her breathing was harsh as she came down from her high. She felt his fingers on the laces of her corset, tugging and pulling until it was free and tossed to the floor. The fabric of her chemise was ripped in two and at last all the barriers between their naked skins were vanquished. Excitement took hold of her again as his hands traced up her legs, spreading them a little further. She waited with baited breath for his next course of action.

Christine was not disappointed; Erik molded his body to hers, every inch of him pressing against her, from their entwined legs to his chest against her back. She moaned and tilted her head to one side. She felt his fingers brush her curls away and moments later his lips fastened on the soft skin of her neck, sucking and biting lightly. She groaned and arched her backside, brushing the length of him as it rested against her buttocks. His groan reverberated on her skin and when she felt him push inside her again, she sighed in utter bliss. He felt decidedly larger and reached places that left her gasping in this new position. He pounded into her from behind, setting her nerve endings on fire again. Their animalistic groans intermingled as they moved together in an ancient rhythm, their sweating bodies gliding against one another sensually. She rose on her forearms and turned her head to one side, needing to feel his lips on her own. He complied and slanted his mouth over hers and even if the kiss lacked finesse, was rather sloppy and the position a bit awkward, it was one of the most erotic kisses she had ever experienced.

He was close; she could feel it in the trembling of his arms on each side of her and the raspy breaths he let out in the crook of her neck. Then again, so was she. To her surprise it did not take her long to yet again hover at the precipice and she trembled with anticipation. She could feel it in every cell of her being, her muscles quivered and a rush of new wetness pooled between her thighs. When he growled _'Let go'_ from between clenched teeth, she surrendered to him completely and without scruples. She let out a keening cry, not caring if anyone heard her; her world narrowed down to only the two of them, her mind and body hyper-aware of every inch of her skin touching his. His thrusts picked up in urgency and his breathy moans against her ear felt like the sweetest music. Her forearms could not hold her any longer and she fell back on the bed, her fingers curling against the sheets tightly.

"You could have died." Through the haze of bliss Christine heard him whisper. She knew he did not realize he had spoken and she relished in the message those four words conveyed. Those words told her that maybe Erik was not so indifferent to her fate as he had led her to believe. Maybe Isabelle had been wrong, maybe he still harbored some affection for her. Maybe he just wanted to suppress that part of him and not let anyone show. Hope blossomed in her chest and when she felt him find his release, she bit her lip and smiled. _Tomorrow._ Tomorrow she would tell him the truth of what was in her heart, what had always been there even when she had not known it.

He rolled away from her, lying on his back next to her. She was utterly sated and felt almost boneless, blinking sluggishly to look at him. The right side of his face was so close for her to lovingly gaze upon. He had his eyes closed, trying to calm down his breathing, and she smiled at the sight. The only thing she wished for at that moment was Erik's arms around her as they both drifted to sleep. She knew tonight was not the right time for that and settled only for a touch. Lifting her heavy arm, she placed her palm on his chest, right above his heart.

And that was how she fell asleep.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

The next morning as the sun rose, heavy clouds obscured the light and the faint patter of raindrops on a window pane woke Erik from his deep slumber. Last night he had been drained, the emotional stress of the confrontation with the criminals and the energy he had spent afterward left him exhausted a he had fallen into a dreamless sleep. Looking to his right, he saw Christine there, cuddled under the blankets in a foetal position, a hint of smile playing on he lips. His eyes travelled further to the exposed column of her neck and he barely stifled a groan when he saw distinctive purplish marks marring the flawless skin. He recalled the events from the previous evening, feeling terrible for the despicable manner he had treated her with. He was disgusted at himself for leaving marks on her body, for subjecting her to the ministrations of his monstrous hands and for taking advantage of her emotional duress to quench his anger and lust.

Heaving a sigh, he carefully rose from the bed. If he had any say in it, she would never have to endure this ever again. He went about dressing as quietly as he could when he noticed his mask lying on the floor beside the bed. He wondered how he did not notice until now he was not wearing it but brushed the thought away. He did not recall slipping it off, so he figured he had knocked it off in his sleep; it would not be for the first time. Brushing away any lingering lint, he put it back on before sitting down at his desk, writing a few lines to her and her kind employer, sealing the letters in two different envelopes. He stiffened in his seat when he heard a soft sigh. Daring to look behind him, he sighed with relief when he saw Christine still asleep, now turned on her back. He quickly put the letters at the bedside table so that she would notice them at once. He walked over to the door and despite the voice in his head telling him to go, he turned around one last time.

She looked so innocent lying in his bed, her limbs sprawled haphazardly around her, her curly hair spread around her head like a dark halo. Burning the image of her into his mind as he gazed at her for a long time, he swallowed, turned on his heel and left, whatever was left of his heart crumbling to pieces in his chest.

 

* * * * * * * * *

 

Christine awoke sometime later, so very comfortable in her little cocoon of warmth that she sighed contentedly. She could hear the raindrops hitting the window and she stretched lazily. She had always loved rain, and waking up after a night like the previous one only made her want to curl up beneath the sheets that smelled like Erik and drift back to sleep. However, she had sensed the lack of his presence and at last her eyes fluttered open, confirming what she suspected - he was not there. The sheets were rumpled, the pillow still had a slight indentation of his head and his warmth didn't leave the mattress completely just yet. Stretching lazily again, she marvelled at the lightness she felt, the which she had not felt in months, years even.

She smiled as she sat up, clutching the sheet to her nakedness and looked around the room. She listened for a while for any sounds from around the house, but all was quiet. Her gaze dropped to the two envelopes propped up on the bedside table, one bearing her married name and the other with the name of her employer in an elegant script. Curious, she picked the one addressed to her and paused, noting how heavy and thick it actually was after a closer inspection. She broke the simple wax seal and froze when she saw the contents for the first time. A thick group of banknotes filled the envelope, with various denominations ranging from five to a hundred pounds. That was a lot of money, even more than Raoul had given her for the trip to London.

Dread filled her as she pulled out the letter, his impersonal, unfeeling words cutting her to the core as she read.

_"Madam,  
I regret to inform you that I need to attend to several work projects presently outside of England, therefore I have no need for your services any longer. Please find the enclosed money as a compensation for any inconvenience in the envelope as well as the pouch I have left on the table. I believe the amount should be sufficient for all your needs and if you so desire, I urge you to find a more suitable profession. I did not mold your voice to perfection only for you to become an escort._

_I have included a letter for Madame Durant, explaining my departure. Please forward it with my sincerest thanks._

_We will not see each other again, therefore I bid you farewell._

_E. G."_

The letter fell from her hands as the painful truth sank in. He had left her. She knew she had to speak to him. She would not let him dash her hopes and leave her like this; she had not told him of her love yet. Rushing out of the bed, she noticed a beautiful mauve dress and brand new undergarments draped over a chair and a few tears escaped her eyes. Dressing as fast as she could, she paid no heed to the corset for it was only a hindrance. Where would he go? Who could know of his whereabouts? Her mind drifted first to the theatre and then his business partner Edward McNeil. Making a quick decision, she placed both envelopes and the pouch into her satchel and with one last look at the bed, she ran out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house, vaguely hearing Rose calling after her. She ignored the maid and hailed a carriage for the weather was too dreadful to walk in; she would go to the theatre first and then, if she weren't successful, she would try and contact Mr. McNeil.

As Christine settled into the carriage, she closed her eyes and sighed heavily, his words permanently burnt into her mind. Her chest felt tight and even though she tried to keep her hopes up, she felt something sink in the pit of her stomach. She knew she had to be strong and not crumble to pieces before he heard everything she had to say. And if she had any say in it, he would not leave until he heard her confession. If he did not love her any longer, she would let him go, even if just the thought of it crushed her. If he still harbored some feelings for her, she would make him stay and prove her love to him.

The carriage came to a halt and she nearly fell as she exited the vehicle in her haste. She paid the driver and ran inside, ignoring the curious stares of passersby and the theatre employees. She ran into a gentleman, nearly knocking them both over. She blushed, lowering her gaze.

"I am so sorry, Sir. I did not mean to." As she lifted her head, she saw a familiar pair of brown eyes looking at her. However, the usual warmth in them was gone, instead he glared at her with cold eyes.

"What are you doing here, Madam?" She froze at the salutation. _He knew._ She swallowed and tried to calm herself. Now she knew what caused the hard look and she did not blame him.

"Please Mr. McNeil, do you know where I can find Erik? I need to speak with him."

"He does not want to see you, Mrs. de Chagny." He said gravely. "And I do not think it is wise for you _or_ for him. I will not allow you back; he has a new life now." Those words hurt but she knew she deserved them. On the other hand, she was glad that Erik had such a good friend on his side; one that would protect him from any harm.

"I know I deserve your scorn, sir. Believe me when I say I have paid for my sins." Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. "Others have suffered because of my foolishness and not a day goes by that I do not regret it. Please, sir, tell me where he is. It is most urgent." She pleaded with the older man. His eyes softened and he let out a sigh.

"I know I will regret this and he would probably kill me for this." He sighed again, heavily. "He just left. There is a carriage waiting for him at the front." Her hearth lurched in her chest; she was so close!

"Thank you." She put emphasis on each word, letting him know that she was sincere and eternally grateful for his help. Wasting no time, she ran outside. The light rain turned into a heavy downpour but she did not care. She saw his tall form reaching to open a door of the carriage.

"Erik!" She called out, hoping he would hear her in the midst of the traffic and the rain. Her heart skipped a beat when he stopped and turned his head to the sound of her voice, the water dripping from his top hat. He stared at her for a long moment while she just stood there rooted to the spot. His expression was unreadable. Before she could do anything, he turned back and climbed into the vehicle, shutting the door behind him. Despair seized her chest as the driver bid the horses to move. She ran after them but the traffic around her was too heavy and she dared not risk falling to her death under the wheels or the horses' hooves.

When the carriage disappeared from her sight, her heart broke all over again.


	30. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have borrowed a little quote from Mr. Leroux himself, but I still do not own anything.

Christine did not know how long she had stood in the freezing downpour. She barely even noticed the cold seeping into her skin and bones, the heavy rain moulding the fabric of her coat and dress to her curves. She paid no mind to the passersby or the carriage drivers who called out to her. She felt numb and strangely detached, as if she was watching through someone else's eyes. She felt someone grasp her upper arms and lead her to the sidewalk, safely away from the heavy traffic and the biting rain, under the roofed entrance of the Savoy. She blindly followed, her eyes still fixed in the direction Erik's carriage disappeared to. The person shook her gently and at last she tore her gaze away and looked into a pair of brown eyes. It was Mr. McNeil and the concern was evident in his face, despite what had happened mere moments ago. He was saying something to her but she did not hear a word for the dull roar in her ears. At last she focused her mind enough to hear his gentle tone, telling her how sorry he was. He hailed her a passing carriage, telling the driver where to go and paying him in advance. She let him help her inside and then the vehicle was off on its way.

Christine's moves were automatic when they arrived at the Duchess. She might have thanked the driver as she exited the carriage but she could not remember. Her legs carried her to the front door and inside. Her freezing hands delved into her reticule and found the envelope addressed to Madame Durant, placing it on the front desk. Tears choked her when she saw the familiar flowing script again and averted her eyes just as several girls with Elizabeth in their midst descended the stairs. When they all saw the drenched state she was in, they immediately grew concerned and gathered around her. Panic seized her; she had to leave their presence at once. She mumbled a quiet reassurance and seized the chance to escape when their attention was diverted by Amelia, who had just left her office to see what the commotion was about. Christine pushed her way past the girls and up the stairs and if she looked back, she would have seen the concerned look Amelia shared with Elizabeth.

She rushed into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. All was quiet around her and she leaned her back against the solid wood. Her vision was blurry and she clenched her eyes shut but that was a mistake. Images of memories assaulted her and when she recalled that last look Erik gave her, the dam inside her crumbled to pieces. She sank to the floor, heavy, heartrending sobs wracking her frame, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. Was this how he had felt when she had left him in his lair all those years ago? This crippling anguish that flooded her whole being, the endless despair she felt coiling in her stomach...how could he bear it? How did he manage to pick himself up and start a new life, when his future had seemed so bleak without her? At this very moment she could not fathom moving on with her life. In his arms she had tasted a slice of heaven and now, facing her life without him again...how could she?

She did not know how long she had sat there with her arms wrapped around her knees, shivering violently as she became conscious of the cold wet clothes that stuck to her skin uncomfortably. Christine wiped her cheeks and attempted to stand, her legs wobbly as she managed to straighten up. She glanced at the mirror but quickly looked away; she was glad the other women refrained from coming to check on her. She looked frightful. Her tremors had not subsided and she quickly stripped from her clothes, forced her thoughts on the task and didn't let them stray. Chilled to the bone, she put on a warm dressing gown, running her hands along her arms to rub some warmth into her body. It helped very little and she crouched near the hearth, starting a small fire. She curled up in the armchair standing nearby, rocking back and forth almost imperceptibly and waited for the fire to grow and warm her skin. How she wished for Erik to be there, take her into his arms and hold her for an eternity. More tears fell when she realized that would never happen and she pressed a fist to her mouth to muffle her cries. However, it was futile; her body shook with deep, choking sobs. She did not hear as the door of her room opened and then quietly closed again. She did not sense another person until arms wrapped around her trembling form, warm and comforting. The arms around her were too lean to be Erik's and as she peered at the figure through her blurry vision, she recognized Elizabeth at once.

"I'm so sorry." The sorrowful look on her face brought a fresh wave of anguish that was let out in a heartbreaking wail. Elizabeth's arms tightened around her and they sat there for long moments. Her tears subsided for a moment and she wiped her cheeks with an offered handkerchief, sniffing loudly and releasing a heavy breath. Neither said anything for a while and Elizabeth let Christine soak up the comfort she desperately needed. She caressed the unruly damp strands of brown hair and sighed; she had thought about Christine as a younger sister for quite some time now and seeing her hurt like that tugged at her heartstrings. She drew back slightly to look at the young woman.

"I'm sorry, Anna. Amelia told me what happened." Christine sniffed, letting out a shaky breath and shook her head.

"Call me Christine." She said quietly. She knew that the time of pretend was over. She had her life back now, a duty to the de Chagny family, and she knew she had to get back to Paris.

"You have fallen in love with him, haven't you? Otherwise I cannot imagine why you would be so upset." She bit her lip but kept quiet. There was no point denying it. She heard Elizabeth exhale heavily. "I told you not to fall in love with your customers."

"No, you don't understand." Confused blue eyes met her brown ones. Christine rose from her seat and paced the length of her room, deep in thought. Dare she confess Elizabeth who she truly was? If she explained that she knew Erik, she would have to reveal everything.

"Can you explain? You once told me he reminded you of your husband." She gave a small smile.

"Yes. I cannot think of my husband without thinking of Erik." She glanced at Elizabeth, who looked even more confused than before. She was so much like her dear Meg it pained her. She knew sharing her burdens would alleviate some of the sadness she had carried inside of her for far too long.

"I'm sorry, I still don't-"

"I know him, Elizabeth. I've known him for 10 years."

"W-why...why didn't you say anything, Christine? Why did you continue with your outings?"

"Because I believed him dead for over 2 years. And to find that he was alive and well, I felt..." She shook her head in wonder, trying to find the right words to describe the ecstatic feeling. "To have him back in my life is the most wonderful thing I..." She stopped abruptly, sobering up as she faced the harsh reality again. He was not in her life anymore. She swallowed against the knot in her throat and sighed, sitting on her bed.

"I will explain. It is a long story though, so you might want to get comfortable." She waited until Elizabeth joined her and began the tale that was her life. When she finished recounting the events of the previous day, she felt drained but somewhat lighter. Her companion didn't speak for a long moment; her eyebrows drawn and lips set in a small frown.

"I don't know what to say." Elizabeth said at last with a small chuckle. "It all seems so unreal. But Christine, are you sure he is not dangerous anymore?"

"He would never hurt me. And he swore never to kill again. He is a changed man, Elizabeth, and yet, still the same." She swallowed hard. "I just wish I had been strong enough, that I had known my heart before all this. I let other people's fear of the Phantom control me. I should have confronted him when Buquet was killed. I assumed he wanted to show everyone what would happen if they disobeyed him. I said some horrible things! I have never given him a chance to explain, maybe he had been acting in self-defence."

"But the tenor..." Christine looked at her folded hands in her lap briefly.

"I know and I will not make excuses for him. I deeply regret Piangi's death, he shouldn't have died. I cannot deny my own guilt at his demise, and while I did not tighten the rope, I might as well have been the one to wrap it around his neck."

"No, Christine, that was not your fault."

"Wasn't it? If I had listened to what my heart was telling me, things would have ended differently. If I had talked to Erik and pushed the opinions of others aside, maybe he would not be driven near to madness. I am equally to blame." A long, heavy sigh left her lungs and her thoughts jumbled together. "At first I agreed to his demands to save Raoul but when we kissed...something _stirred_ within me. I kissed him again. It felt so different from the kisses I had shared with Raoul up until that point and even in our marriage his kisses never made me feel like that. I should have known it meant something more profound. I should have made Erik honour his promise. I wish I hadn't left. I wish..." Her voice broke and her tears fell freely down her pale cheeks. Elizabeth took her hand in silent support.

"You would have been on the run, Christine. Raoul would not give up searching for you both, would he?"

"No, probably not."

"There is no use dwelling on things we cannot change. We all have regrets, we all made mistakes. You cannot ask yourself 'what if', it would drive you insane."

"You are right. I just wish he knew how much he means to me."

"I know." Elizabeth smiled sadly and put her arm around Christine's shoulders. "What are you going to do now?"

"I must give my testimony to Inspector Smith at the Scotland Yard within the next couple of days. Then..." She trailed off, lost in thought. "I must travel back to Paris. Give my testimony to _La Sûreté_ as well. I have to meet Raoul's family." She grew silent once more and shrugged a little. "I do not know what then."

"Perhaps you can take up singing again? Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could grace the stage again?" Christine smiled sadly at her friend's enthusiasm.

"The de Chagnys will not support my endeavours. A Vicomtesse and an actress? Unheard of. That would only bring shame to their name."

"There are ways, Christine. It is not impossible. Wouldn't you like that?"

"I would love nothing more. Music brings me closer to Erik. To be on a stage again and continue to make my dream, our dream, a reality would be wonderful. I want to make him proud, even though he would not be there."

"Oh, but he _will_ be there with you. In your heart." A genuine smile stretched her lips and she squeezed Elizabeth tightly in their embrace. "And to think! Maybe as you travel around the world, you will meet him once more when you least expect it. Then you will tell him of your love, _show_ him and all will be well. I think you two were meant to be and even if it may take a long time, I'm sure your paths will cross once again."

"Do you think that-" Christine raised hopeful eyes to her friend, who only smiled enigmatically. "But he may not-"

"While there's love, there's hope. I do not know him as well as you do, but I don't believe his love for you disappeared. A love of the most exquisite kind, the kind that gives you a thrill when you think of it...that love never dies." Elizabeth brushed the tears from Christine's cheeks with her thumbs and smiled at her. "Now. Dry those tears, smile and dress. A new life is waiting for you." She rose from the bed and strode over to the door and opened it. She looked back at Christine, a cheeky grin on her face. "As well as lunch. Be quick." With that she darted out the door, leaving the young soprano alone.

Christine giggled, feeling incredibly lighter. Despite her grief at Erik's leaving, Elizabeth's words gave her hope, hope that she might see him again. She stood up and went over to the mirror, drying her tears with the back of her hand. She still looked terrible; pale skin and red rimmed eyes, yet they held a strange spark. She splashed her face with cold water, dressed and went downstairs.

 

* * *

 

It was three days later when Christine stood in the main building of the London St Pancras train station, sharing a bittersweet farewell with Elizabeth and Amelia. These two women have managed to worm their way into her heart in such a short time and she considered them as her family, so she was sad to leave them. Over the past couple of days she had thought about her life and her future and now she was taking the first step forward.

"Thank you both, for everything. I do not know where I would be if you hadn't found me on the street that night and gave me work and shelter. I don't know if I'm ever going to be able to repay you for your kindness. However, I can do one thing." She reached into her reticule and handed an envelope to Madam Durant, who looked at her in surprise. "Please, take this, I insist. It is a half of what Erik gave me; I have shared the rest among several orphanages." Christine wanted to prove to herself and everyone else that she was capable of taking care of herself and making a decent living. She had enough money from her wages at the Duchess and she used that for her current and future travel expenses and basic provisions. Elizabeth smiled, her eyes filled with tears as she moved to embrace the young soprano.

"I know he would be proud of you." She whispered into her ear and Christine closed her eyes momentarily, feeling a pang of sadness at the mention of her Angel. She was not successful at finding him, or even finding one person who knew of his whereabouts. The inspector told her Erik had given his testimony the morning he left; Mr. Williams, Erik's business associate in the Savoy, was clueless as to where both Erik and Edward were. However, she knew it would take time. And if she had to, she would wait forever.

Amelia pulled her into a motherly embrace as well, wishing her good luck and imploring her to come back some time, to which she promised she would. With one last look at her little family of sorts, she boarded the train to Dover, not looking forward to the long journey back to Paris, alone with only her thoughts as a companion.

 

* * *

 

**Paris, two weeks later**

_" **VICOMTESSE CHRISTINE DE CHAGNY RENOUNCES INHERITANCE**  
It has come to our attention that the widow of the recently passed away Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, Christine de Chagny née Daaé, has renounced her share of her late husband's inheritance as well as the de Chagny name and title. The Vicomte de Chagny was found murdered in his estate on October 25th and La Sûreté began to suspect the Vicomtesse of the crime when she had not come forward. Two weeks ago, all charges against the former singer have been dropped in the light of her testimony and help from the Scotland Yard. Criminals responsible for de Chagny's death have been arrested, deported back to France and sentenced to death after a fair trial._

_The reasons for Vicomtesse's decision are unknown and her new name remains a mystery as well. We wish the former Opera Populaire soprano the very best in her future endeavors."_

His surprised eyes scanned the small article in the recent _Le Temps_ issue several times, making sure he read correctly. He folded the newspaper with a sigh and glanced back at his companions, who watched him closely as they stood nearby on the platform of _Gare du Nord_ railway station.

"Let us go." He said at last, throwing the paper into a bin. Picking up his luggage, he followed the two companions, boarding the train and leaving his past behind.


	31. Just live

The deafening applause and appreciative shouts were still ringing in Christine's ears as she hurried to her dressing room, needing some peaceful quiet for herself. Her heart pounded from the thrill of being on stage again and the triumph she had shared with her fellow cast members on the premiere of _Carmen_. This wonderful elating feeling each time she was on a stage was indescribable. And afterward, seeing the enthralled faces of the audience brought an incredible joy inside of her. This is what she was supposed to be doing, this was her life. 

She sat down at her vanity and looked at herself in the mirror. Despite the delight of their triumph, which brought a soft glow to her face, the feeling was tainted, bittersweet. She had no one to share the joy with. Perhaps she was being a little unfair; she had the whole Vienna State Opera cast but none of them were very close friends with her. She missed her little family, the tight-knit cast of the Opera Populaire and most of all, she missed _him_.

Three years.

Three long, lonely years since she had fled France, leaving behind her name, title and inherited wealth. Three years passed since she had last seen Erik. She did not think of Raoul much. Guilt ate at her; he had been her husband for two years and a dear friend for longer than that. The real reason was simple. Thinking of her deceased husband caused memories of Erik to surface in her mind.The pain was still fresh and raw, just as it had been that day. When she had departed, she had felt hopeful and carefully optimistic. But as the months flew by, those feelings faded and her despair grew. Perhaps she had been too naive to believe they would meet again. Perhaps Elizabeth had been wrong and they were not meant to be. 

She had been trying, though. Every city she had gone through, she had made inquiries about Mr. Garnier or Mr. McNeil. She had thought that he would continue with either his architecture business or ownership of a theatre, maybe both. But with every dead end she grew less confident in that notion. Last year she had traveled back to London again for a brief run of _Aida_ in the Royal Opera House. The city held so many memories for her and she had hoped Erik had returned to this wonderful place. She had been heartbroken when she learned the Savoy theatre was sold to new managers and the theatre had been performing the works of Mr. Gilbert and Mr. Sullivan. Erik's residence had been sold to an elderly couple through an estate manager. If the Savoy and the National Museum of British Art weren't standing there in the city, it would be as if he had never been there. She had visited the Duchess as well, much to Amelia's delight. She had been saddened to hear that Elizabeth no longer worked for the older woman and instead had found work elsewhere.

Three years ago, just before she had left Paris, she had searched for the Girys but to no avail. Nobody knew where they had gone; their house was for sale and they hadn't seen the two women for weeks. With heavy heart, she had boarded a train to Sweden, her birthplace and her parents' homeland. It was there she adopted her mother's maiden name, Nielson. One day, she had visited her mother's grave, sad that her papa had not been buried right next to her. She had mourned the mother she had never known, yet she had felt a peculiar sense of peace as if her parents had been watching over her that day. 

After that Christine had gathered the courage and auditioned for a role at the Royal Swedish Opera. They had been very impressed with her performance but had given her a secondary role for the time being for she was not very well known under her new name. She had not minded though; it had allowed her to practice, to bring her voice to the same level as it had been two years ago. She had still remembered Erik's teachings and had heard his stern voice inside her head whenever she had made a mistake. Christine had soon found out that singing was not enough; she had needed to feel closer to him even more and on a whim she had hired a piano tutor. She had studied diligently in her free time and in a few months she had become a decent piano player. Of course, she could not compare to Erik's mastery of the instrument nor had she wanted to. 

She had wanted to be able to put a melody to the lyrics that were floating in her head and soon Christine had found a new passion - composing. At first, there had been simple folk songs but as time had progressed, Erik's influence had become obvious and she had composed her first, and in the meantime only, aria. Oh, how she wanted him to hear it still! He was the sole inspiration for her work and she had put all her love in it, hoping that one day he might hear it, understand its message.

She sighed.

The first month in Sweden had been very taxing, both physically and emotionally. Her mind had been in constant whirl of love and despair and she could not help replaying the last day she had with Erik and the incredible passion they had shared that night. Every time that thought entered her mind, it had come back to one startling revelation - they had not used french letters. Oh God, how she had wanted Erik's child growing within her womb! She would forever have a piece of him with her and with a smile she had pictured a carefree little boy with jet black hair and striking green eyes. Alas, when her monthly bleeding had come, as precise as a clockwork, she had grieved, her sobs choking her as she had lain curled on the cold bathroom floor.

After that Christine had thrown herself into work, polishing her voice to her previous level of excellence and beyond, and she had hoped that Erik would be proud of her. It hadn't been long before she took the stage as a prima donna and some had even compared to her to the famous Swedish opera singer Jenny Lind. She had spent six months in that position and when her current run was over, she had acquired an agent and had travelled over the course of three years around Europe. After Sweden, she had a brief run in Verdi's _Nabucco_ at the Danish Royal Theatre. Her fame had spread since and next she had performed roles in grand venues such as the Royal Theatre in Madrid, the Berlin State Opera, Prague National Theatre and most recently, the _Grand Théâtre de Genève_. A few weeks back she had come from Switzerland to Vienna and now she was enjoying a new city, new people, new roles. 

Still, Christine's life in the last three years has been lonely, reclusive. She did not make many friends for she didn't stay long at one place, so the only friend of sorts has been her maid and chaperone, a widowed woman named Mary, who was a few years older than Madame Giry. Having her children married and spread all around England, she took Christine under her protective wing. Whenever she had fallen into despair, Mary had been there, enveloping her in a motherly embrace, letting Christine shed her tears on her shoulder, never asking for an explanation for the young woman's sadness and she felt grateful for that. Grateful for the two people, Mary and her agent, who cared about her welfare, and also grateful for the job she had always dreamed of. Still, there was something missing.

She knew what it was, _who_ it was. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her dressing room door. It was Mary, who came to help her out of her stage costume and arrange her hair before she had to meet with the public. These perks of her career she could live without; while she was thankful for their praise and answered each question with a smile, these post-performance gatherings were rather tiresome. She wanted nothing more than to get rid of the heavy stage make-up and crawl to bed. Instead, her moves were automatic as Mary helped her undress from the Carmen costume and back into a beautiful cerulean evening gown. Her expert fingers tamed her wild curls in a loose updo and soon Christine emerged from her dressing room to greet her admirers, the press and the wider public.

 

* * *

 

The _Carmen_ run lasted for six weeks and Christine found herself with no clear idea where to go next. On top of that, Mary had received grave news from her family and Christine released the woman from her employment with a generous compensation. Her family needed her more than Christine. Chaperone-less, she took a week long vacation in the anticipation of spring in the beautiful Vienna before contacting her agent the second week of March.

 _"Dear Christine,"_ , he wrote,  
 _I am pleased to hear you are anxious to return back to the stage. Currently, you have a few options to choose from. Most recently, the_ Bolshoi theatre _in Moscow and_ Opéra de Monte-Carlo in Monaco. I know you expressed the desire not to perform anywhere in Paris but the Opera Populaire _has been recently renovated and opened once more. Please consider this option as well._ La Fenice _and_ Teatro dell'Opera di Roma _are both looking for new talents, however, auditions are run the first week of April and I'm sure you will want to get back to the stage sooner than that. There is also another option in Italy,_ Politeama Fiorentino Vittorio Emanuele _, a recently renovated theatre in Florence, Tuscany. It has been under a new management for a couple of years and since then it has thrived tremendously. Everyone is in a high anticipation of the new production; it is said to be an original opera, never heard before._

Christine scanned the rest of the letter, taking all the details in. She had to admit, her agent had been very thorough and the information he gave her was exhaustive. She had always wanted to visit Italy, since Erik had taught her Italian, so she could understand the operas she was singing. And now, such opportunity for her arose. An original work, how very exciting! Her mood dampened a little when she remembered the last time she had performed in a previously unheard opera. It had ended in a disaster, though the music was beautiful, complex and ahead of its time. 

She read the letter once more and finally decided; Florence, Italy was her next destination.

* * *

That afternoon Christine had packed her belongings and purchased a ticket to Florence for the next day. The journey would be long and tiring but somehow she felt excited, her stomach fluttering in anticipation. 

The next afternoon, she had boarded the train at the Vienna West Station. Not many people were on board and she shared her compartment with an elderly lady, signora Donati. They have become familiar with each other almost at once and settled in a quiet companionship during the long fourteen-hour ride. As the train set to motion, Christine leant back in her seat and sighed, wondering what would Italy bring. 

She woke very early next morning after a night of fitful sleep; she did not sleep well on a train. Signora Donati was already awake, just about to leave the compartment to have a breakfast in the dining car. When she saw Christine awaken, she wished her a good morning and decided to wait, so Christine could join her. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and made herself presentable before following signora Donati out of the compartment.The breakfast was a quick and quiet affair, not many people were about and they both enjoyed the relative peace.

Once they returned, Christine sat in her spot near the window. The next thing she new, she was being roused by signora Donati and she realized the monotone sound of the train, the gentle swaying of the vehicle and the previous sleepless night lulled her into a brief doze. She blinked a few times to clear out the haze and focus on what the older woman was saying.

"We are in Tuscany, my dear." Christine sighed in relief and looked out of the window at the land she would be hopefully calling home for a few weeks. When her eyes settled on the landscape, her breath caught. She could have sworn it was a love at first sight; Tuscany was _beautiful_. Rolling hills as far as the eye could see, farmlands, scattered towns, vineyards, all were bathed in the sunrise and it looked magical. Christine heard a chuckle and forced her eyes away from the breathtaking sight, only to see signora Donati with a knowing smile on her face.

"You have the same expression I had when I first visited Tuscany. It really is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Breathtaking." Christine whispered and turned back to the window, wondering whether Erik would find this land as awe-inspiring as she did.

* * *

Shortly after that they had arrived to Florence and Christine bid the signora farewell. The city itself was magnificent and so rich with history that she couldn't wait to get some free time to explore all the sights it had to offer. She hailed a passing carriage; the driver helped her with her luggage and then directed the horses to a hotel near the _Politeama Fiorentino Vittorio Emanuele_ theatre. 

The locals were very friendly and welcomed her with open arms. She smiled as she unpacked her necessities, then sat on the bed. Her agent had written to her that the first round of auditions was to begin this afternoon. She still had quite a lot of free time on her hands, so she decided to take a short nap. When she awoke, it was two hours later and she felt refreshed and ready to face the day again but her stomach was protesting, so Christine ventured to the hotel's dining room downstairs for lunch. Once she was back in her room, she practiced her posture and scales, remembering all that Erik had taught her. Feeling confident in her talent, she donned her bonnet, cloak and gloves and made her way to the theatre. 

The exterior was not as grand as the interior, though it mattered little; shining marble floors and staircases drew her eye, golds and reds displayed prominently on the carpets and curtains. She followed the sign _Audizioni_ until she came to an open double door. There was a young man standing on one side and when he saw her approach, he smiled warmly.

"Good afternoon, bella signorina. My name is Florian. Are you here to audition?"

"Yes, signor." Christine smiled back at him. He produced a pen and a half-filled piece of paper. "Christine Nielson." She supplied helpfully and watched as the young man scribbled it down.

"Do you have any prior experience with theatre?"

"Yes, I have performed in various roles in the last three years, from secondary to the main character roles. I have just arrived from Vienna, where I played the main role of Carmen. Before that, I have performed in Prague, Berlin, London and other cities around Europe." Florian smiled at her in obvious appreciation and nodded to himself. She was proud of her success, but did not feel comfortable talking about it lest someone thought she was boasting. In this case it had been necessary and she was relieved it was over now.

"Thank you very much. Please wait over there with the others, the conductor will be with you shortly." He pointed to the direction of the other women auditioning for a role. Christine thanked him and went to stand near the small group. She could not help but overhear some of their conversation, for it was not spoken in hushed tones and the women made no move to conceal their conversation.

"Supposedly the conductor will be overseeing our auditions today."

"I thought the manager would be present." Said one with a hint of disappointment. "It is said he is a great connoisseur of the arts, especially music."

"Someone told me he will be overseeing the auditions the day after tomorrow. The people who get chosen today will have to learn a song from the new opera."

"Is it true that he wrote it?" Christine leaned slightly towards them, trying to hear more about the theatre's manager. She knew it was not proper and Madame Giry would be dismayed by her manners, rightfully so. She did not hear more, for they were quieted by a familiar voice from behind her, ushering them to the auditorium. She watched as they left and as the man came around her to follow the women, she smiled, feeling elated at the prospect of a familiar face in this place.

"Monsieur Reyer?"


	32. Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opera Gianni Schicchi by Puccini was first performed in 1918, but I really like the aria from it, so I hope you forgive me for twisting the history a bit.

It was a shock and a pleasant surprise to see the older man after five years. There was a brief flash of something, surprise and something else, in his eyes before they turned warm and kind and a smile settled on his lips, his mustache curling slightly with the movement.

"Oh, _mon dieu_!" He exclaimed, slipping back to his native tongue from his heavily accented Italian. "It is you! Mademoiselle-" He paused, unsure how to address her.

"Nielsen."

"Nielsen. Have you remarried?" He blurted out and stammered out an apology immediately afterwards. "I apologize, it is none of my business. My sincerest condolences for your late husband. The Vicomte was a good man." 

"Thank you. Nielsen is my mother's maiden name." Christine smiled at him. "I am very happy to see you, Monsieur Reyer, albeit a bit surprised to find you here."

"As am I, but I am very delighted you chose to audition. _Here_ , of all places! Now come, we shall start in a moment, there is a lot to be done today." He made his way towards the auditorium and she followed, pondering what he had meant by his earlier statement. She sat with the other women in the very front row of seats and listened to Reyer's instructions.

"Good afternoon Signorine, thank you for coming. I have been put in charge of the first round of auditions by the theatre manager, who is currently out of town for business." Christine didn't miss the strange look pass over the conductor's face as his eyes settled briefly on her. "Those of you who will pass this first round will audition again at the end of the week in front of a committee made of the manager, myself and the ballet mistress. We shall proceed now, we'll be calling you in order as you arrived. If you pass through to the next round, you will be given a brand new score from the upcoming production. You will be required to sing it at your next audition. Any questions?"

No one had any questions, so Monsieur Reyer proceeded with the auditions. Christine settled more comfortably in her seat and watched as each of the women showed off their talent. Some of them reminded her of Carlotta; overly confident and their signing uninspired and often times painful on her ears. Some of them were good signers, though they still needed a lot of tutoring before they were ready to take on the prima donna role. Four or five women were excellent singers and Christine knew that if she wanted to impress, she would have to try and do her best. Finally, after a long time of waiting, it was her turn as Reyer called her name. She stood from her seat, feeling suddenly very nervous. She had done this a few times over the past three years and even though she had been a little nervous on each occasion, she hadn't felt like this for a long time. Her wobbly legs carried her to the centre of the stage and she felt like she was back in Paris in front of the managers once again.

"Signorina Nielsen, what song have you chosen for your audition? Perhaps an aria from Hannibal?" Reyer's eyes glinted with amusement but she felt anxious at his remark. Singing that song had brought both times her only pain and she dared not risk the same happening again. She shook her head and replied.

" _O mio babbino caro_ from the opera _Gianni Schicchi_ by Giacomo Puccini."

The conductor seemed a little bit surprised but at the same time his face showed approval at her choice. While he instructed the orchestra, she fought the butterflies that rose in her stomach. She could not fathom why she was feeling this way. _It is only Monsieur Reyer, you've known him for the most of your life. Just remember your Angel's teachings and make him and your papa proud._ Feeling more encouraged, she corrected her posture, lifting her chin slightly as the orchestra began to play. She let her voice soar, poured her heart into the short aria, capturing the character of Lauretta and expressing her love for Rinuccio. When she finished, she felt a little breathless yet at the same time elated like she hadn't been for a long time. Something felt different about this audition, something that set it apart from the others; she felt at peace. Maybe it was from seeing a familiar face after such a long time.

"Bravo, Singnorina. You were most excellent. We will see you on Friday for the second round of auditions. Florian will give you the score of the aria you will perform for us. Congratulations." Reyer smiled kindly at her. Christine returned the smile, her heart jumping with joy. She caught a sight of Florian standing in the wings, smiling at her, holding a musical score out to her.

"Congratulations, Signorina Christine. You were simply magnificent and I hope you will be the one chosen. I have not worked with someone with such a talent like yours." At her questioning gaze, he added. "I should probably formally introduce myself. My name is Florian Martinelli, I am the lead tenor of the new production." His brown eyes shone warmly, his smile kind. He was young, no older than 26 years of age, handsome and with a spark of mischief in his eyes. Christine found herself smiling back as he bent and briefly touched his lips to the back of her hand before handing her the score. "Here is the score. If you excuse me, I have an errand to run with Signor Reyer. I wish you luck on Friday."

"Thank you." She watched as he swiftly walked away in the direction of the orchestra. Too eager to wait, she opened the score, but before she could absorb the melody, a sweet melodious and, more importantly, very familiar voice rang from behind her.

"Christine?"

 

* * *

 

Christine turned and gasped; the sight of her dear friend brought tears to her eyes and her soul rejoiced.

"Meg!" She closed the distance between them and enveloped the blonde ballerina in an embrace; the score fell from her hands onto the floor, forgotten. They held each other tightly, both too overwhelmed at their sudden and unexpected reunion. "My dearest Meg!" Christine draw back and smiled so widely her cheeks hurt. "I cannot believe it's you!"

"Oh, Christine! I can't believe you are here!" Meg was as speechless as Christine and they embraced again before drawing apart, their hands linked.

"I have been looking for you for years and now you're here! How are you? When did you arrive here? Oh, I have so many questions!" She chuckled in her giddiness, her heart feeling lighter at having found a part of her family

"My dear Christine! I have missed you so, my sister. I am well and even better now since we have found each other! There are so many things I want you to know! I heard beautiful singing from the backstage; we have not had a singer like that in this theatre, so I went to investigate. And found you! How long have you been in Florence?"

"I arrived only this morning. I still cannot believe you work here! How is it?"

"It's great!" Meg exploded in a ecstatic chatter about her career and Christine was so glad that her friend's talent had not gone unnoticed and she had become a prima ballerina.

"And what of your mother? Is she here?" She looked over Meg's shoulder, anticipating the ballet mistress to be just around the corner.

"Maman is here as well. We have a day off because of the auditions, so she is at home. Oh, Christine! Please tell me you will come with me to our home!" The prospect of seeing Madame Giry again warmed her heart.

"Oh, I don't know, I do not wish to impose-"

"That is nonsense, you are family. She would love to see you, she has missed you just as much."

"Are you sure she won't mind me visiting unannounced?"

"Do not worry, Christine. Maman would never turn you away. Have you found accommodation yet?" 

"Yes, I'm staying in a hotel nearby. I did not want to rent an apartment before the auditions. After all, there are some excellent singers and the manager may not like me." Meg paused and a strange look passed over her features. A look so similar to Reyer's that Christine began to wonder what was going on. However, the look was gone in a flash, making her think if she had not imagined it in the first place. 

"I am certain that will not be the case. You sound even better than I remember. Now, unless you have any pressing matters, I'm taking you to see Maman." Meg tugged at her hands and stated with a finality. In complete honesty, Christine could not fight her friend; she had wished for her little family's presence all these lonely years, so she could not find it in herself to protest. Surely society rules could be overlooked when it came to family.

"Let's go." She replied and laughed at Meg's happy squeal. Her friend ordered a carriage and soon they were on their way to the Giry's home. Meg had not changed much over the years, though she had certainly matured and grown to be even more beautiful.

"Oh, Christine we have so much to talk about!" Meg said excitedly as they settled into the comfortable seats of the vehicle. Her smile fell a bit. "I am sorry for what happened to the Vicomte." Christine swallowed, nodded and looked at her hands folded in her lap. "Me and Maman did not believe what the papers were saying. I'm glad that the criminals were caught and dealt with. I know how much Raoul meant to you, I know that it must have been hard to deal with all that. Do you miss him?"

Christine bit her lip, feeling incredibly guilty. She did miss Raoul, their marriage was not an unhappy one and reflecting back, their union was based on friendship and affection, though the love she had for him had not been the love a wife should have for her husband. She should have known back then, should have known her own heart and none of that would ever happened; Raoul would be alive and happy with a wife who loved him and she...she would live by Erik's side.

"Sometimes." She replied vaguely and looked out of the window at the passing buildings, shaking her memories away. Despite her joy at finding Meg and her mother again, she missed Erik terribly. Thankfully, Meg steered from the topic and for the remainder of the ride they had talked about her career after she had renounced the de Chagny name.

"I went to Sweden, got a small role in an opera and just...built my way up. I've travelled so much over the past three years...to perform again was like a new life was breathed into me. So many opera houses and theatres, so many roles...and I have enjoyed every minute of it."

"You deserve it, Christine." Meg smiled at her warmly and squeezed her hand. The carriage came to a halt and when she looked outside, her mouth dropped open. They had pulled up in front of a magnificent villa, sitting on a hill on the outskirts of Florence, surrounded by picturesque nature while having a splendid view of the city. The estate looked new, renovated perhaps a couple of years back. She wondered how the two of them could afford such a big luxurious house but decided not to question it and simply looked around her surroundings.

"We're home! This is Settignano, it's just outside Florence. It's such a magnificent place! I fell in love with it the first time I had seen it. Originally, this was a farmhouse." Meg paid the driver as they exited the carriage and took her hand, pulling her towards the entrance. She put a finger to her lips, signalling for Christine to not make a sound and used the little knocker, stepping in front of her so she was shielded from Madame Giry's gaze.

A few moments later the door opened and the voice of her foster mother came through, warming her to the core. Oh, how she missed them both!

"Meg, did you forget your keys yet again?"

"No, maman. I have brought you a surprise!" Meg was almost bouncing on the spot, too excited to stand still. Christine suppressed a snicker at her friend's behaviour.

"Truly? And where is this surprise you speak of?" The ballerina wordlessly stepped aside with dancer's grace and Madame Giry's eyes fell on Christine, who did not anticipate the wave of emotion at seeing the ballet mistress once again. The older woman put both hands over her heart, the shock evident on her face.

" _Oh, mon dieu!_ Christine, my dear!" Christine was surprised to see tears gather in her foster mother's eyes and moved to embrace the woman tightly. It was strange seeing the older woman so overcome with emotion for in the past she had been rather reserved but Christine knew the woman had a kind heart. 

"I have missed you both so much." She squeezed Madame Giry tightly before the woman drew away, a warm motherly smile spreading on her face, her hand gently caressing her hair.

"So did we. I cannot believe you are here, my child."

"Maman, Christine is auditioning at the theatre!"

"Indeed?" A flash of worry passed over her features and Christine stiffened. What was going on? Already three people have looked at her like that, as if...as if they were hiding something from her. Her spine tingled and she got the impression she was missing some vital information, something very important. "That is good news and I hope we will be seeing you more often."

"Oh yes, now that I have found my little family again, I'm most reluctant to leave, no matter the outcome of my second audition." Madame gave her a small, careful smile.

"I am sure you will get the part. Your voice is exquisite, my dear."

"Oh, maman! You should have heard her, she sounds divine!" Meg beamed but Christine stopped paying attention the moment she saw a flash of black and white stop in the back of the hallway behind Madame Giry's shoulder. Later she would wonder at how a single day could turn your life on its head in a matter of moments. Her heart lurched in her chest and the time stood still when her eyes met the green orbs of a man she thought she would never see again. In reality, the moment lasted only a split second before he darted into one of the rooms at the back of the house.

_Oh, Erik._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, who here did not see that coming? Teehee!


	33. Reunions, part 2

Her furiously beating heart jumped to her throat, so quickly that she had to put a hand over her heart. A look of stunned wonder passed over her features and for a moment she stared at the spot she had seen him stop at. A tiny doubt crept into her mind; what if it was just her wild imagination, mere wishful thinking? But when she looked at the two women around her, she knew it was no dream. They were both studying her carefully in silence, their features marred with worry as she processed what had just happened. Suddenly everything made sense; the odd looks, Monsieur Reyer's comments...Erik was the theatre manager and the composer of the opera currently scheduled for rehearsals.

"Please, Christine, do not be afraid." Meg was the first to break the silence, placing a hand under Christine's elbow, presumably to stop her from fainting. She furrowed her eyebrows. What was Meg talking about? Afraid of her angel? She could not fathom that thought. She had feared his temper once, but that had been a long time ago. "He is a good man." 

"I'm not afraid." She said, almost incredulously. It was strange hearing her old friend talk about the former Phantom of the opera so kindly when she had feared him before. Madame Giry stood silent, appraising Christine with her blue eyes but she didn't seem to be as worried as Meg was. Maybe she knew much more than the petite ballerina. 

"Come inside, the doorstep is not appropriate for such conversations." Madame Giry spoke at last, ushering the two of them inside. Christine felt butterflies erupt in her stomach; Erik was somewhere in this house, so very close and within her reach! She bit her lip and followed the ballet mistress into the parlor, instructing a maid to bring them tea while they sat on a sofa, the Girys each at her side.. She felt nervous yet giddy; she wanted to run to her angel, bury herself inside his strong embrace and kiss him...She fought a blush, it was not appropriate to think such things when she had company.

"Maman, what is Erik doing here?" Meg's question brought her back from her musings, the familiarity which her friend had spoken his name almost made her feel irrationally jealous. "He was supposed to come back tomorrow. If I had known he would be here, I would not bring Christine."

"His business concluded earlier than he expected. It is not your fault, my dear. They would have met later anyway, if not here then at the auditions on Friday." Meg seemed to have accepted her mother's words and seemed to feel less guilty. Christine cleared her throat.

"How long have you been here?"

"All three of us arrived here three years ago. Erik had plans for the theatre and asked us whether we wanted to join the company. We agreed and travelled with him. It took a few months to get the theatre working again, but eventually he succeeded."

"I have searched for you all for all these years." She smiled but then wavered. "I am sorry I have not been in contact when Raoul and I were married." Madame Giry smiled comfortingly and reached for her hand, squeezing softly.

"That is alright my dear, we do not blame you. I would have written to you but since you have severed all ties with the de Chagnys, I had no way of getting a letter to you. The papers said you took on a new name but didn't specify."

"Yes, that is true. I have taken my mother's maiden name, Nielsen."

"I'm sorry for your loss, Christine. The Vicomte was a good man." Christine just nodded and stayed silent. Thankfully, Madame Giry changed the subject. "Did you find a suitable accommodation?"

"Yes, I live in a hotel near the theatre. However, I will be searching for something more permanent. There is no way I am leaving you again, no matter the outcome of the auditions on Friday." She suddenly found herself in Meg's embrace and chuckled.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Christine. I have missed you so. Please tell me you will stay for dinner! Maman, can Christine stay for dinner tonight?" Madame's lips stretched into a rare smile.

"Of course. You are more than welcome to join us, Christine."

"I do not wish to be a burden. And I still have to go over the song-" She paused, her eyes growing wide as she suddenly realized she had forgot her score in the theatre. "Oh no, I left the score for my audition at the theatre." Madame Giry placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Do not worry, Christine. I am sure we can find a copy of the song somewhere in the house." She bit her lip; of course they would have a copy. The composer lived under the same roof! She wondered where Erik had gone and what he was doing now. She could not wait to meet him, to get lost in his eyes once again, in the melodious sound of his voice and simply bask in his presence.

"Meg, could you please go tell the cook we have a guest tonight?"

"Right away, maman." Christine watched as her young friend disappeared through the door, a happy bounce in her step. When she was out of sight, her attention turned back to Madame Giry, who was studying her intently.

"I am very glad to see you, my dear. You look healthy and well. We both have been worried when _La Sûreté_ proclaimed you as a suspect. We did not believe any of what the papers were saying. I have prayed for you every night." She paused and met her eyes. "Erik told me everything. I did not tell Meg."

Christine froze and dropped her gaze to her lap, not wanting to see the disappointment and disapproval in her foster mother's eyes. 

"He told me how he went with you to the Scotland Yard and helped to catch those criminals. I am glad you had come for his help." Her head snapped back up at the Madame's words. She did not see any of the emotions she had expected and internally sighed in relief. She was grateful that Erik had kept her profession and their connection from his friend.

"Raoul told me where to go before he died." She looked at Madame Giry imploringly. "Why did he lie to me, Madame? I have tried so hard to think of an answer to that question over the past few years but I cannot find a reason Raoul would want me to believe my angel was dead." Madame Giry sighed and stroked Christine's hair; she leaned into the familiar comforting touch.

"I cannot tell you that, my dear. I'm afraid only the Vicomte knew the real reason. Speculations would get us nowhere. It is better to put it behind you. After all, Erik is here and alive, is he not?" Christine nodded and smiled, almost dreamily, her heart bursting with joy.

"Yes, you are right. That is what matters." The older woman pulled Christine into a motherly hug just as Meg returned from the kitchen, standing in the parlor doorway and watching her mother and her friend embrace with a soft smile.

"Now, I believe you two have much to catch up on, so I will leave you alone. I will see you both at dinner." She smiled and left. Meg took the vacated seat next to Christine and smiled at her friend.

"Oh, my dearest Meg, I want to hear everything about you!"

"And I cannot wait to tell you!" Both women laughed at their silliness. "Florence has been amazing. It is such a wonderful, inspiring place. I'm glad we came here and while from time to time I miss Paris, I don't see myself ever returning permanently. I fell in love with Italy. I cannot wait to show you around. Maybe once the production is over, we can go to vacation to Venice. It's such a beautiful town, Christine."

"I would like that very much." She paused. "Meg, can I ask you something? Why did you tell me not to be afraid?" Meg slightly fidgeted in her seat.

"I do not want you to be afraid of Erik. When maman told me about his offer, I was slightly worried, though I knew that he and her have been friends for years. I still agreed and I am glad we came here. He is a good man, despite his past transgressions. Oh, Christine, he had offered jobs to most of the cast of Opera Populaire, those he knew had talent and hired them. I once asked maman why and she said that he felt guilt and regret at their unemployment. Those he did not hire, he compensated with a generous amount of money."

Christine could not believe her ears. Erik had done all that? Was it even possible to fall in love with that man even more deeply?"

"He is well respected, people do not fear him. He is a good manager and the theatre has only ever prospered under his care."

"Oh, Meg." Christine breathed, a swell of pride warming her chest. Erik has found acceptance in the world above, in the world of light. "I do not fear him. I have never feared him. Only once I felt a semblance of fear; when I first witnessed his temper after I had taken off his mask-"

"You took off his mask more that once?!" Meg exclaimed incredulously, staring at her as if she had grown another head. Christine hung her head in shame; if she could turn back time and act differently, she would. By that one careless motion she had brought him pain, pain she could not comprehend.

"Yes. Not a day goes by that I do not regret it, Meg." She closed her eyes briefly. There were so many things she regretted in her fairly short life and most revolved around Erik. But this was not the time to dwell on them.

"I am also grateful to him, Christine. Without him, I would have never met Florian." Christine sat up straighter, watching with fascination as her friend's cheeks lit with a blush.

"Florian? The lead tenor?"

"Yes." If it was possible, Meg's blush deepened and Christine's grin grew even wider. "We have been together for about two years now."

"I'm so happy for you, Meg!" She moved to embrace the ballerina, happy that her friend had found the one to love. "Tell me more!"

"Maybe later." With the blush still gracing her cheeks, she looked at Christine with all seriousness. "I thought you have always feared Erik in some way."

"No, I didn't. I was confused and overwhelmed more than anything." Christine smiled at her friend. "I know he is a good man; in my darkest hour he came to help me even after all the wrong I had done to him."

"What do you mean?"

"The night Raoul died, he came to our bedroom to wake me up and pack some of my things. He told me that if he couldn't make it, I had to go to London. He told me that was where Erik lived."

"You met Erik while he was in London?"

"Yes." Memories filled her mind and she smiled softly. While some evens were highly stressful, happier events brought a smile on her face. All the moments she had spent with Erik had been very precious to her and she treasured them each and every day for the past three years. A slight blush tinted her cheeks at some of the memories.

"Signorina Giry, dinner is being served." The maid's entrance thankfully interrupted her train of thought.

"Thank you, Lucia. We will be right there." Meg turned after the maid left and leaned closer to Christine. "You must tell me everything. Later."

 

* * *

 

The dinner was delicious and Christine felt happier than she had in months, years even. Just to be reunited with her family brought joy inside her and sharing stories felt like the old times. They had asked her about her career and she told them about all the places she had seen during her travels.

However, she felt painfully aware of the empty spot to her right at the head of the table, and the full plate of lasagna bolognese that was slowly getting cold. Several times she had caught herself listening for footsteps as one door opened and then closed at the back of the house, hoping that Erik would finally join them for dinner. Unfortunately that was not the case and she felt a sharp sting of disappointment each time. Madame Giry must have caught her look at the untouched plate for the hundredth time and gave her a placating smile.

"Do not worry, my dear. Erik will eat later; it is not the first time he skipped dinner nor will it be the last. He is busy working, there are still a few things that need to be done before the production goes into rehearsals." Christine refused to be self-centered and think that he was purposefully avoiding her. As the sole manager, he had a responsibility to his theatre and employees, and she could not imagine the amount work it entailed. The conversation stilled for a few moments as each of the women enjoyed their dessert.

"Christine, I have thought about this, and I would like it if you stayed with us." She nearly choked at the delicious tiramisu when Madame Giry spoke up. She had not been prepared for that. 

"That is very kind of you but I do not want to impose-"

"That is nonsense, my dear. You are always welcome here."

"But what about-" The ballet mistress knew what she was about to say and shook her head. 

"I have spoken with Erik and he agrees with me."

"That is wonderful! It will be just like the old times!" Meg exclaimed and Christine had to bite her lip to keep from grinning at the mental image.

She only hoped Erik did not live in the basement.

 

* * * * * * * 

 

Shortly after dinner it was agreed upon that Christine would stay overnight and tomorrow pack her belongings from the hotel and move them to the house as well. Meg graciously lent her one of her nightdresses and dressing gowns after she was settled in one of the beautiful guest rooms. After dinner they had moved to the library and talked some more over a glass of fine red wine before they went to bed.

However, Christine felt too wired to sleep, so she silently padded around the house and into the beautiful warm library. It reminded her a bit of Erik's study back in London; dark hardwood floors adorned with light persian rugs. The room was bathed in red and gold accents, subtle but stunning. The fire blazed in the hearth and cast a nice warm glow in the night. She felt incredibly cozy in this room and decided at once she would catch up on some reading. Walking over to the rows and rows of books, she browsed through the vast collection, picking a copy of _Much Ado About Nothing_ , and settled on a chaise longue, drawing up a soft blanket over her legs. 

She was barely past the first act when soft footsteps echoed outside in the hall coming towards the library. She was too engrossed in the comedy that she did not notice until the door swung silently open.

Her eyes rose from the book and her breath caught in her throat. Erik stood in the doorway, bathed in the flickering flames of the fireplace. She drank in the sight of him; he wore a simple white shirt and his long legs were encased in well fitting trousers. He wore the mask she had first seen in London; mask in the colour of his skin, which concealed his deformity as if he had never been born with it.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt breathless in his presence. She did not know what to say or where to even start, feeling foolish for acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. His eyes bored to hers and she felt herself flush under that gaze.

"Cannot sleep?" He asked at last. His voice was like a balm on her soul and she fought to keep her eyes from closing at the exquisite sound. Those were not the words she had expected to hear after three years of separation but she did not mind. He was here, with her, and that was all that mattered.

"Yes. Too much has happened today." Her throat felt tight and to her ears her voice sounded strained. Erik acknowledged her words with a nod and walked over to the chaise. She sat up straighter and the book fell into her lap. Mesmerized by his movements, she watched as he took a seat across from her near her feet.

"Antoinette told me you forgot your score at the theatre." Christine blushed and felt grateful for the low light in the room. "I have brought you a copy, so you can learn." Only now she noticed he held a music score in his hand. Her fingers closed around the paper when he handed it to her but her eyes never left his. She studied him closely; he looked somewhat different than when she had last saw him. He seemed calm and peaceful, and to her delight, happier than she had ever seen him. 

Christine wanted nothing more than to close the small distance between them, wrap her arms around his neck and hold him for an eternity. She wanted to tell him and show him how she felt, how he made her breath catch and how he made her soul sing with joy. She wanted to tell him about her career, see if he would be proud of her achievements. She wanted him to gather her in his arms, kiss her and lower her on the chaise, make her his. She blushed at the last thought and bit her lip.

He rose from the chaise and panic overwhelmed her. In her rational mind she knew he was only leaving the room to perhaps go to bed or return to his study to work, but she could not help but feel dread.

"Goodnight, Christine." How long had it been since he had called her like that? In London, he strictly addressed her as Anna or, later, Vicomtesse and Madame. To hear her name coming from her lips gave her hope that maybe not all was lost. Speechless, she watched him walk away. As he reached the doorway, she called out to him.

"Erik?" He turned at the sound of her voice and again his eyes met hers. She swallowed as the silence stretched between them. _I love you._ "Thank you." She said instead. He simply bowed his head and left.

She let out a breath and buried her head in her hands, feeling incredibly foolish, and berated herself.

_Coward._


	34. Audition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're curious what song Christine is singing, go here: http://youtu.be/K6ijmtvQs8I

That night Christine had trouble sleeping. The knowledge that Erik was under the same roof was a large factor and also their earlier encounter did not help a bit. Her musical score lay next to her on the bedside table. She was too wired to go through it, so she decided to leave it for tomorrow. Berating herself for her earlier cowardice, she tossed and turned before finally falling asleep.

The next morning she woke with a smile, eager to start a new day. So much was ahead of her and she could barely wait! She went about her morning routine as quickly as possible before joining her little family in the dining room. She was unsurprised to find Erik's seat vacant, but a small feeling of disappointment remained. She smiled and greeted the two women, who looked up from their breakfast at her entrance, and seated herself in the same spot as last night. The table contained a rich variety of foods and she felt her stomach growling and her mouth watering at the display. She reached for her favourite, croissants and strawberry marmalade, pleased to find the pastry was freshly baked and still warm.

The maid, Lucia, asked her preference for a morning beverage and was back moments later with a steaming cup of tea. Lucia picked up an empty plate and cup from Erik's side of the table on her way back to the kitchen and for the first time Christine had noticed the plate had little crumbs on it and a drop of tea still remained at the bottom of the cup. For some odd reason, that made her smile. 

"I am so happy you are going to live with us, Christine. And to share the stage with you again is like a dream come true!" Meg smiled at her friend.

"I still have to audition, Meg. I might not be hired this time." Meg gave her an overly incredulous look that was almost too comical. Truth was, the other sopranos were incredibly talented, therefore the competition was very high. She felt unsure and slightly nervous about her next audition. She didn't even begin to read through the score! Before her friend was able to utter a protest, her mother spoke up.

"I, for one, am looking forward to hear you sing again, my dear."

"Thank you. First I need to move my things and then I have less than two days to learn the score."

"I'm confident you will be able to master it in no time." Meg smiled at her encouragingly. "Maman, can I come help Christine with her luggage?"

"Of course. However, the fact that we have a few days off does not mean you will get out of practicing, so I want you to practice at home."

"Yes, Maman." Meg grudgingly agreed but winked at Christine, who hid her smile in her croissant.

 

* * *

 

After breakfast, Christine and Meg ordered a carriage and went back to Christine's hotel to get her belongings. In the vehicle they chatted about anything and everything, reminiscing and giggling just like old times. When they arrived, Meg twirled around the hotel's room with ballerina's grace, while Christine packed everything she had taken out the day before.

"You still have to tell me what happened in London with Erik." Meg said as she made a perfect _pas de valse_ around Christine's room. Christine paused and blushed furiously, which made Meg abruptly halt in the middle of her arabesque. Curious, she sat on the bed next to Christine, who looked at her with all seriousness.

"You must promise me not to say a word to anyone. _Especially_ not your mother."

"I promise you, Christine. You know you can tell me anything." Hesitantly, Christine began her tale from the moment Raoul had woken her up that fateful night and briefly recounted her travels. When she got to the part with Elizabeth and Amelia, Meg let out a squeak.

"An escort? Like a-a-" She stammered and looked at Christine with wide eyes, unable to voice what was on her mind.

"Yes. I am not proud of it, but it had brought me straight to Erik."

"How?"

"He hired an escort for an evening and Amelia thought that since the gentleman was French and I haven't learned much of the language yet, I would be more comfortable. I was dreadfully nervous about the outing and at the same time afraid that the criminals would find me. Imagine my shock when the gentleman in question turned out to be Erik." Christine paused and gave a slight chuckle as she remember the first few breathless moments in the darkened carriage. "It was all too much; I could not believe that fate has brought him into my life just when I needed him. I don't think I could have managed without him." 

"What happened then?" Meg leaned towards her in curiosity and Christine smiled.

"We sort of agreed to treat each other as strangers, as if we had never met before. Of course, it was a foolish notion that we could pretend indefinitely, and in hindsight I should have realized we were always bound to lose the pretense. That night I really enjoyed myself; I was so glad of Erik's presence and in awe of what he accomplished in London and glad to see he had friends. He then took me back to Duchess and arranged it with Amelia so that I could be his exclusive escort and no one else's. We had a few more outings after that." Christine concluded but blushed at the memories that followed. Looking up, she saw her friend's risen eyebrow and a peculiar expression on her face.

"There is more to it, is there not?" Christine swallowed and her cheeks reddened even more.

"One night he took me to the Faust premiere in his theatre. There I learned more about him since we've been apart. After the performance we had a nice dinner. Then he took me to his home." Meg's eyes grew round and wide and Christine's blush returned with full force, deepening as the silence between them stretched and her friend's stare never wavered.

"You lay with Erik?" The blonde dancer squeaked out rather loudly that Christine had to clamp a hand over Meg's mouth in panic, worried someone might overhear.

"Shhh!" She admonished and once she was sure Meg would keep quiet, she drew her hand away. "Yes, I did." Meg opened her mouth a couple of times but in the end shook her head.

"I don't know what to say." She said at last with a chuckle. "Did your pretense fall after that?"

"No. It was only after Baron Marshall's ball a few days later that I decided I had to tell him the truth."

"What made you decide?"

"One of the criminals contacted me at the ball while Erik was fetching me a glass of water." Christine suppressed a shudder at the unpleasant memory. "He threatened me, said that he would hurt you all if I didn't comply. You, your mother, Erik, Erik's friends... I was terrified. The next day I went to see Erik as Christine, not Anna. When I arrived, he was already furious and moments later I found out he received a letter from your mother, including a clipping from a newspaper. He was angry with me but in the end decided to escort me to the Scotland Yard the following day without being detected. I did not expect it but I felt grateful to have a friend in such hard times. Even if he didn't view it as such and was only helping me to protect those he loved, not me." Her gaze dropped into her lap, so she missed the curious look Meg gave her. She inhaled deeply and continued.

"In a strange twist of fate, Erik persuaded the Inspector to let him help with capturing the criminals the next day." She recounted the events that followed. "When I saw him on the other side of the pistol, it was as if my world stopped turning. I could not imagine being without him and I wasn't ready to allow someone to force us apart again. That is when I knew."

"Knew what?"

"I love him, Meg." Christine smiled gently, an almost dreamy expression on her face. Meg looked stunned, her blue eyes wide, her lips parted in silence. "I realized it then and there and in the face of death I lost all pretense. Back in the opera, I did not know my own heart. I let the fear and opinion of others influence me and then there was Raoul. I should have realized sooner that what I felt for him went deeper than friendship. I should not have shunned him, I should have known better. He had been my guardian, my teacher and my friend for all these years, the fact that he was a lonely disfigured man and the Opera Ghost should not have mattered. I had wished for my Angel to be a mere mortal, someone I could love and touch. I should have known then."

"I couldn't just stand idly by; I left my hiding place and ran towards them. I wanted to protect him, I was ready to give them anything they wanted." Christine sighed. "In the end, Erik managed to incapacitate them and the police took care of the rest. He was practically livid with me; he had told me to stay put no matter what and I disobeyed him. I did not blame him, my foolish action could have get us both killed."

"What happened then?"

"He ordered a carriage and took me back to his house. I thought we were going to have an argument but I couldn't be more wrong." Christine smiled and slightly blushed at the memory. "He was so passionate. I responded in kind, wanting him to know how much I loved him." She paused and let out a long sad sigh. "The next morning I woke to find him gone, a goodbye letter on the bedside table." She shook her head and smiled, her heart bursting with love. "But he's here now."

Meg, who sat on the edge of the bed fascinated, clasped her hands to her heart and smiled.

"Oh, that is so romantic, Christine! You can finally tell him of your love!"

"I almost did, yesterday night. He came to the library to lend me the score. I acted cowardly and couldn't get the words out."

"Don't worry, Christine. I'm sure the right moment will present itself."

 

* * *

 

After the two women arrived back at the house, Meg could see that Christine wanted nothing more than to delve into the score, so she helped her put her luggage away and then pushed her in the direction of the music room. She closed the door behind her, going up the stairs to her room to practice her dance moves.

Christine stood in the middle of the room, looking around in wonder. It felt incredibly light and music seeped from every wall. A grand black piano, polished to perfection, stood in a small alcove, surrounded by several tall windows, which let the spring sunshine in and offered a magnificent view of the gardens. 

Giddy, she hurried across the room and sat on the stool, opening the score. The song was titled _Mademoiselle Hyde_. She had read the book _Strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_ by Robert L. Stevenson not long after it was first published in 1886, so she knew what it was about and wondered whether the song had any connection to the book. As she poured over the notes, she heard the melody in her head. Fascinated, she started to hum but found that it was not enough. She turned to the piano, lifted the lid and put the score on the small stand, her fingers itching the bring the melody to life. It was not as difficult as she had imagined and though she wasn't as skilled as Erik, she found she could play it quite decently. When she mastered the tune, she put all her focus into the lyrics and at last it all came together. Her heart beat furiously in her chest; Erik was in every measure of the song and it was _beautiful_. Quite fast paced, unique and haunting melody and the words spoke of the dark side of the main heroine in the opera, a warning of sorts to her male counterpart.

Her soul soared as she sang the song in its entirety for the first time. She could not wait for the auditions on Friday.

 

* * *

 

The days flew by and Friday dawned with a beautiful cloudless sky and birds happily chirping outside. Breakfast was a quiet affair for Christine; Madame Giry, Meg and Erik were already in the theatre, so she had a few quiet moments for herself and practice her scales and a few simple songs.

When she arrived at the theatre, most of the other singers were already outside of the practice room the auditions were held in, chatting excitedly. She stood nearby but didn't engage in their conversation. She felt very nervous and couldn't help but wring her hands in the folds of her dress. She was not sure what to expect but she was confident in her knowledge of the aria. A few moments later Erik, followed by Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry, walked into the hallway, tall and regal. Christine could not take her eyes off him. 

"Good morning, Signorine. Before we proceed with the auditions, there are a few things we would like you to know. The music score you have been given is the opening aria of the opera. Some of you have worked with us in the past, however, your audition will be judged solely on your performance today, your voice and your ability to bring the character into life. I will be accompanying each of you on the piano and Signora Giry, Signor Reyer and myself will then choose one of you to play our lead character. Good luck." With a polite incline of his head, Erik and the others disappeared behind the practice room door. Christine tried to catch his eye but was unsuccessful.

She exhaled shakily; now that she knew Erik would be playing the piano, she felt even more nervous. What would he think of her voice? Would she be able to impress him, make him proud that she still remembered all his teachings? She froze when the door opened again to reveal Madame Giry, whose quick eye scanned the small group of sopranos. Her eyes met Christine's, who felt her her heart lurch in her chest. She knew Madame Giry wanted to choose her first but when the ballet mistress turned her gaze away, she motioned for the closest woman to follow her inside. Christine breathed a quiet sigh of relief but wondered what had just happened. Did Erik tell her to bring her inside? Was there a system she was unaware of? She felt decidedly silly for having thoughts like these but the more nervous she became, the more jumbled her thoughts were. 

Soon, the first notes rang out from behind the door and she got lost herself in Erik's mastery of the piano. The accompanying voice was not half bad but the soprano in question needed to better her diction. Halfway through the aria, the music stopped and moments later the woman exited the door, evidently disappointed. Madame Giry caught the eye of the next auditionee without looking back at Christine. The next auditions went by swiftly, some ended abruptly and few reached the aria's true finish. Meg came around for some moral support, as she had called it, and Christine was glad for the company as she was the last one to still wait for her audition. A sudden discordant sound interrupted their quiet talk but what startled them the most was the explosion of temper from behind the door.

"No, no, NO! Out!" Erik's voice thundered and Christine bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. For some reason she was glad his temper had not changed much but pitied the woman at the end of his rage, who had burst from the door nearly in tears. Christine exchanged a look with Meg. She didn't particularly want to go in after such outburst and Meg volunteered to go inside for a brief moment under some pretense. Christine felt jealous of Meg's current position in the theatre; she did not have to go through nerve-wracking auditions with Erik and she was safe in her job. Meg had left the door slightly open, so she could faintly hear their conversations.

"How are the auditions going?" Her friend asked most innocently and the question was answered by a muffled groan. Christine hid her smile at Erik's response and listened further.

"Not well." Madame Giry said and Christine could hear Monsieur Reyer murmur his agreement. 

"Maybe we should take a break, Monsieur." The good conductor suggested.

"How many are left?" She heard Erik ask and waited with baited breath.

"Just one." Madame Giry replied and there was a long moment of silence before she heard a long sigh.

"Okay, let us get this over with. Send her in, Meg." Christine jumped away from the door when her friend emerged from behind it.

"They're ready for you." Meg gave her an encouraging smile after Christine shot her a panicked look. "Don't worry, you will do just fine. Good luck." She felt herself being pushed to the direction of the door and dragged her feet. She was truly nervous, unlike any other time, maybe except for her very first audition of sorts in the Opera Populaire. Madame Giry stood in the doorway with a similar expression to Meg's, which calmed her somewhat.

"Good morning." She greeted as the door closed behind her. The colour of Erik's eyes was so vivid when they met hers and she felt her breath catch. He sat at the piano stool, his jacket and cravat discarded somewhere, so that he was only clothed in his vest, shirt and trousers. 

"Good morning, Signorina Nielsen. If you please." He motioned towards the side of the piano and she took the hint and came to stand next to the beautiful instrument. His expression was neutral, any trace of his previous anger gone. She quickly looked where Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry both sat off to the side and gave her reassuring smiles. She looked back at Erik, who shuffled through some papers before pulling out a single sheet of paper.

She watched as his eyes darted across the writing, his visible eyebrow rising. His dark lashes rose and his eyes made contact with hers, a slight surprise written in their depths.

"Your work is very impressive." He said at last and she swallowed several times to get rid of the sudden dryness in her throat.

"Thank you."

"Shall we?" She gave a prompt nod and corrected her posture, all too aware of his eyes on her. He began to play the introduction and she joined at her cue, giving her all into the performance, remembering everything he had ever taught her.

 

* * *

 

When he first stepped with Antoinette and Monsieur Reyer into the hallway next to the practice room, from the corner of his eye he immediately saw Christine standing slightly off to one side away from the others. He noted that she was nervous; the folds of her skirt did not manage to hide her wringing hands as much as she would have liked to. He suppressed a smile; in fact, he was slightly nervous as well, which was unusual for him. Auditions in his theatre were usually straightforward but today Christine was one of the people who were auditioning. 

He hadn't heard her sing for three years and wondered whether she had trained her voice back to perfection after she had neglected it as a Vicomtesse. What if her voice was terrible? What if she was too good? His mind spun with thousand questions to which he did not have answer to. He forced himself not to make an eye-contact and disappeared into the practice room. 

The auditions went underway and he found himself getting frustrated. So far, none of the sopranos displayed the passion that was imbued in the female lead character of his opera. Their voices were generally adequate but some were not fitted for this character at all, so he had to cut their auditions short. So far he had not found a single person who could be the next diva of the theatre. His temper suddenly flared and he lashed out at the poor woman, who left the room almost in tears. 

After this outburst, Meg came into the room, her curiosity undoubtedly getting the better of her. He could only answer her question with a frustrated groan. The auditions were not going well. When Monsieur Reyer suggested a break, Erik was reluctant. He wanted the auditions to be over soon, so he could focus on the rehearsals. When Antoinette gently told him only one other woman remained, realization dawned upon him. 

Christine. 

He sighed heavily and decided not to prolong the inevitable any longer. In a matter of a few minutes he would know whether he would have to hire one of the adequate sopranos or whether he would damn himself again by employing Christine. When he saw her, she seemed nervous still, perhaps even more, but there was an odd sense of calmness and happiness around her. He quickly looked through her application form that Florian had written for him. Her achievements surprised him and suddenly he felt curious. He was impressed by how many big venues she had performed at.

Erik started to play the first few notes, his hands automatically flying across the keys. This particular song has been with him for three years and he found a way to incorporate it into his new opera. He was pleased to find her in correct posture but when Christine started to sing, his fingers nearly faltered in their rhythm. She sounded absolutely _divine_. Her voice had matured, her pitch was perfect and everything was just faultless. He stared at her almost in wonder, unable to believe his eyes. She had remembered all his teachings, perfected her technique and brought his character to life unlike anyone he had heard before today. He had always known she was meant for the stage and this audition only proved it. 

After the song ended, she looked radiant and visibly happy with her performance, yet hesitant of a response. Glancing to his right, he saw Antoinette's smile and nod. Monsieur Reyer looked delighted and that was when Erik decided. He stood up from the stool and stepped in front of Christine, gazing into her deep chocolate eyes.

"Welcome to the theatre, Signorina."


	35. Serenity

_**Previously:** _

_After the song ended, she looked radiant and visibly happy with her performance, yet hesitant of a response. Glancing to his right, he saw Antoinette's smile and nod. Monsieur Reyer looked delighted and that was when Erik decided. He stood up from the stool and stepped in front of Christine, gazing into her deep chocolate eyes._

_"Welcome to the theatre, Signorina."_

* * *

As he said the words, he extended his hand towards her. The resulting radiant smile he got back was worth all the heartache she would undeniably cause him in the following weeks. Her hand was small and warm in his and he wondered why her cheeks suddenly turned pink at the simple gesture. It was a brief contact and after he dropped his hand, he turned to the piano and picked up the score of his opera.

"The rehearsals start on Monday. Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer will tell you everything you need to know and Meg can show you around. If you need anything else, I will be in my office." With that he handed her the score. Once again her face stretched into a wide smile and he felt the need to leave the room.

"Thank you." Christine replied and clutched the score to her chest, as if treasuring a gift. Giving her a stiff nod, he turned, gathered his jacket and walked out of the room and to the safety of his office. He sat behind his desk and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. What had he got himself into? 

Three years ago he had left London with a heavy heart. It had been hard to leave, but he knew it was for the best. He had felt ashamed of how he had treated her, forcing her to submit to his desire, which had left ugly marks on her flawless skin. He had been disgusted with himself and the actions he had taken that resulted in those colourful spots. He had decided then and there that she would never have to endure the touch of a monster again. Her life was better off without him.

Over the past three years he had found relative happiness in Italy, something that was quite foreign to him. Tuscany was a breathtaking place and he felt right at home when they first arrived. His friends, the theatre and music helped him cope with the bitterness that still lingered in him. He was happier than he had ever been, even though the gap in his soul when Christine left over five years ago still remained. That night he had realized she would never reciprocate his feelings. It hurt, more than any other rejection or beating he had ever received in his life. But with the help of his friends he had managed to rise above his heartbreak and start leading a normal life. It was tough at first but he became a successful and respected businessman. 

Now he was at a loss, not knowing what to do. Back in London, he had treated her with detached civility, but now he didn't think he could do so again. She was not running away and did not fear him. Instead, her chocolate eyes held a strange new spark he had never seen before when she looked at him. She seemed genuinely happy. Maybe there was a reason fate brought Christine here, perhaps they were meant to be friends like so long ago before he had had the foolish impulse to fall in love with her. He shook his head. He would try and become her friend, if she was willing.

The day went by fairly quickly, there was still much to be done before the rehearsals would begin on Monday. Erik was quite surprised that Christine didn't come knocking at his door but then again maybe the cast and crew of the theatre kept her busy. It wasn't until much later when there was a knock on the door. 

"Enter." He called out, not looking up from his paperwork. His eyes were starting to hurt after so many hours of staring into the papers.

"Erik?" When he finally did look up, he saw Antoinette standing on the other side of his desk, smiling at him. She cast a quick glance around it; it was a mess. She rose an eyebrow and asked nevertheless. "Are you coming with us back home?" Now that she had mentioned, he could hear a soft chatter of the two young women in the hallway. He suppressed a smile and sighed.

"I cannot. There is still much work that needs to be done." 

"Very well. Just don't work too late." She gave him a knowing look. Her concern touched him and even after all these years he could not get used to it. Now that he had found acceptance from his family of sorts and his friends, he felt like a normal man. "Don't forget we have visitors tomorrow." Antoinette bade him goodnight and his lips stretched into a genuine smile as he replied back.

Ah, yes, he was looking forward to their visitors tomorrow.

 

* * * * * * * 

 

The whole audition seemed like a blur to Christine; she had been aware of Erik's eyes on her the moment she had started to sing and feeling encouraged by his presence and his mastery of the piano, she gave it her all. For a moment she had seen a look of surprise, even wonder on his face and although it had been barely perceptible, she had heard his fingers falter for a tiny moment. When Erik told her he had chosen her, her heart nearly burst in her chest with so many emotions. She had smiled at him so much that her cheeks had hurt but she hadn't paid any attention to it.

Afterwards Meg had showed her rather thoroughly around the theatre. She had met several of the ballet dancers and chorus members that had been once employed in the Opera Populaire. They had spent most of the time talking and she was delighted they seemed to be happy about her return. As the day turned into evening, Christine was saddened to hear that Erik would not be joining them on their way back home and Madame Giry told her he would most probably work until very late. On the other hand, this gave her time to look over the whole opera score; something she could not do during the day.

She had a lovely dinner with the Girys to celebrate her success and when everyone went to bed, she tip toed quietly downstairs into the library, started a nice big fire in the hearth and climbed under a soft blanket she had brought with her and settled comfortably on the chaise longue. This room was without a doubt her new favourite and she looked around the large space fondly before looking over the front page of the score. The opera's title, _Il Segreto_ , The Secret, sounded very intriguing and she flipped the first page impatiently, immersing herself into the storyline.

Sara and Marco, the main characters, grew up together in one large house. Sara was the only daughter of a upper class widower and the owner of the house, while Marco, being a maid's son, later joined his mother's side as a servant under the same roof. Over the years they had fallen in love with each other, but never dared to take the next step for fear of being discovered by Sara's father. Christine felt hope when her character decided to no longer be afraid and stand up for her love. Her hope was quickly dashed when Sara's father pulled her aside, telling her of an arranged marriage to a slightly older man named Alberto. Christine's heart ached when Marco ran away upon hearing the news and was surprised by Sara's sudden departure the night before her wedding and her return just at the break of dawn.

In the end Sara married Alberto and moved far away from her home. Her husband was often away and Sara's only joy in this loveless marriage was their daughter, Emma. Five years later, her father came to visit his daughter and granddaughter for the first time. Christine shared Sara's shock when Marco appeared as her father's valet. They had not stopped loving each other during the years and now remembered the last time they had been together, that one night just before her wedding day. Their duet was passionate, full od forbidden love and the struggle the pair went through. 

Parts of it reminded Christine uncomfortably of the last night with Erik in London and the way he left. Was that the memory which inspired this song? Shaking herself from her thoughts, she continued with the score. Marco meeting Emma was inevitable and right away he began to suspect she was not Alberto's daughter. The girl didn't look much like him and only had some resemblance to her mother. He confronted Sara, who confessed her darkest deepest secret; Emma was Marco's daughter, conceived that one night five years ago. Christine felt elated for the couple as they fell into each other's arms but gasped when Alberto appeared on the scene, having overheard everything. Angry and betrayed, he pulled a gun and tried to shoot Marco, but Sara pushed him away at the last moment and took the deadly bullet instead. Sara's father, witnessing the whole event, killed Alberto. Christine couldn't contain her sobs when Sara died in Marco's arms and her heart ached when he embraced Emma at the end of the opera.

After Christine finished the score, she was a mess. The music was extraordinary and she could feel the very essence of Erik in each piece, the lyrics were beautiful, sad and poignant. She leaned back on the chaise and let her mind wander, putting herself in Sara's shoes. What if she had known her heart sooner and went to find Erik before her wedding to Raoul? What if they had shared a night of passion that resulted in a child but before she could confess her love, Erik would have gone? Would she have gone through the wedding anyway? Lost deep in thought, she didn't hear the front door open and close and the footsteps that led to the library until the door opened and Erik walked inside.

They were both surprised to see each other; a quick glance at the clock told her it way _way_ past midnight. She had no idea the time went by so quickly and hastily wiped away the tear tracks that remained on her cheeks when she found Erik watching her.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes. I was just going over the score." He walked over to the chaise and took a seat just like he had a few days ago. His nearness made her skin tingle and she felt warm all over.

"Surely it cannot be that bad." His little joke surprised her for a moment for she had never heard him tell a joke or anything of the sort in a non-ironic way. She studied him for a moment and found faint lines in the corners of his eyes, it was as if he was used to smiling now and the thought warmed her heart. 

"No, not at all! It is beautiful, a masterpiece. It is just so tragic. Why does every opera have to end with death and heartbreak?"

"Not every opera ends like that. Furthermore, this one ends with hope that not all is lost." He was right, of course. In the end Marco had something worth living for - his daughter. There was a soft smile on Erik's face, it made him seem so youthful and she found herself smiling back, nodding.

"Do you often work so late?" She questioned, casting a glance at the clock again. He followed her eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

"Not really. Only the preparations for the production take a lot of time. Once that is finished, there is less paperwork to be done."

"Have you finished then?"

"Yes, for the moment. Rehearsals bring another set of problems though but nothing that would keep me awake this late." He paused and his smile stretched a little. "How was your day?" For a moment she marvelled at the simple conversation they had, no pretense, no past, just them and their fragile friendship. Since the audition he seemed less reserved and while he did not seek her out, he didn't shy away from any contact with her either. That fact filled her with hope and while she wanted to tell him of her love, she could wait and renew their wonderful friendship first, if he was willing.

"Quite busy. Meg showed me everything there was to see and introduced me to everyone. It was very kind of you, what you did for the Paris cast." She smiled at him softly; he didn't seem particularly surprised that she knew. The corner of his mouth quirked and if she didn't know better, he looked almost sheepish.

"I'm actually glad you are still awake. I have been meaning to talk to you." Christine sat up straighter and gazed at him, filled with anticipation. What did he want to talk about?

"Yes?" If he had noticed how breathy her voice suddenly sounded, he didn't let it show. 

"We will be having visitors tomorrow. I feel that I need to forewarn you." Bewildered, Christine shook her head. Before she could ask what he meant, he continued. "Isabelle and Charles, her son, will be coming over. I had to tell her the truth." Her breath caught in her throat but she understood. She remembered when she had last seen Monsieur McNeil; he had known the truth and obviously had not liked her and hadn't wanted her to cause more pain to Erik. She could understand that, even she didn't like herself when she thought about her past actions in Paris. Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she worried that Isabelle disliked her as well and even more so when she now knew the truth.

"You don't have to worry, Christine. Her bark is worse than her bite." There was something slightly cheeky in his smile and she couldn't help but chuckle, while at the same time marvelling at the sound of her name coming from his lips.

"I will keep that in mind. Is Monsieur McNeil away on business that he cannot join us?" As soon as she asked, Erik's face fell and a shadow passed over his features. He sighed heavily and leaned his forearms on his knees and stared at the plush cream colored persian carpet beneath his feet. Dread filled her stomach and she shifted closer to him. "Erik?" She saw and heard him sigh again and studied his profile, wishing she could see beneath his mask.

"Edward passed away almost a year ago." His voice was quiet and pained, telling Christine the extent of Erik's grief for his friend and she felt his loss profoundly. Christine had not known him well but she knew he was a kind man and a good friend and husband. Her heart went out to Erik, Isabelle and little Charles.

"I'm so sorry." She said quietly, wanting to comfort him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed in silent support. His back was tense but after a few brief moments he somewhat relaxed. The touch of his hand upon hers surprised her and even more so when he gently took her hand from his shoulder and placed a delicate kiss on the back of it. That tender gesture caused a wild fluttering in her stomach and her breath to catch in her throat even as he released her hand and murmured a soft thank you. At this moment Christine felt the need to pull him into her arms and never let him go. He was vulnerable and she wanted nothing more than to protect him and whisper sweet words of love into his hair.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, only the crackling of the fire in the hearth filled the room. Christine relished their closeness on the chaise longue, it felt so natural, so incredibly _right_. Her yawn broke the quiet between them and she saw him hide a smile.

"You should go to bed, it is very late." Christine was reluctant to leave him but in the end conceded with a nod of her head. She untangled her legs from the blanket, letting her feet sink into the carpet. She folded the cover and carefully draped it over the head-rest before gathering her score and standing up.

"Goodnight, Erik." She said as she neared the door but stopped when he called out softly.

"Christine?" She turned to find him watching her, the light from the flames accentuating the contours of his perfect cheek. He was so very handsome and she wished he would feel comfortable enough in his home to forgo wearing the mask.

"Yes?" She asked quietly, not wanting to stir the serenity that enveloped them both, and held her breath.

"Could we..." He paused, lowering his eyes before connecting with hers once again across the room. "Could we be friends again?" He sounded terribly hesitant and she had to admit it probably took a lot of courage to ask this, setting himself in this vulnerable position in case she said no. She had not anticipated his question but her heart sang. She could see he expected a refusal, so his reaction would be all the more sweeter.

_That and so much more, my love._

"I would like that." She gave him a soft smile, cradled the opera score to her chest like a treasure, and with a last look at his stunned form, she left the room.


	36. Suspicion

Christine woke up the following morning, looking forward to the relaxing weekend before submerging into rehearsals once more on Monday. She had a lovely breakfast with the Girys, again disappointed that Erik had already eaten but that feeling did not remain as Meg dragged her from her chair, intent on showing her the grounds properly. They walked arm in arm in the sun around the gardens. It was late March but it was warmer than it would be in Paris at this time. Meg led her towards the back of the gardens, where Christine hadn't been before, therefore she was surprised to see a small stable for four horses, large field and a small garden house nearby. Only three horses occupied their stalls at this moment. All three were beautiful Andalusians of light colours and she hesitantly approached the closest one, a greyish mare. 

"This is Freyja, she is my horse." Meg approached the beautiful horse and ran her hand down her nose. The mare whinnied in a greeting and a slight toss of her head. "She is named after a Nordic goddess of love and beauty."

"She is beautiful." Christine stroked the animal's strong neck in admiration.

"Over there is Apollo, maman's horse. He is quite cheeky but otherwise well behaved." At the mention of his name, Apollo's ears twitched and he gave a neigh. He was a beautiful sandy brown color and something in his eye told her that he was indeed as cheeky as her friend had said. Christine smiled at the horse and stroked her hand down his nose. "And this is Nyx. We haven't had her for long, it was only recently that Erik bought her."

"Nyx? What does it mean?" Apollo's nose was trying to find some treats in her hands and she had to push him away slightly with a giggle.

"Erik told me Nyx was the goddess of the night in Greek mythology." Christine approached the last stall and she saw a beautiful mare, the exact opposite of her name for her coat was white-grey. She was strangely drawn to the horse and let her sniff her palm. It tickled and she laughed when the mare titled her head towards her as if to snuggle. She smiled and stroked the horse with affection, it was obvious the animal liked her.

"She really does like you." Meg commented with sort of awe in her voice. After Christine's quizzical look, she continued. "She didn't let anyone ride her or groom her except Erik. She tolerates our presence but Erik said she will come around. Obviously it didn't take her long to warm up to you." Meg gave Christine a cheeky smile as the latter continued stroking the mare. "Perhaps now that you are going to live with us, she could be your horse."

"Oh no, I couldn't..."

"Don't be silly, Christine. No one can ride her other than Erik and he already has César."

"César?"

"Yes, he brought his horse from Paris." Christine's mind spun; could César be the name of the horse that had taken her down the Phantom's lair so many years ago? She couldn't wait to find out. Meg was unaware of Christine's journey through her memories and continued. "Erik took him for a ride in the fields after breakfast." 

Christine turned to observe the field and soon enough a large black steed galloped through the field at an incredible pace. There was no doubt in her mind that it was the same horse; a powerful thoroughbred stallion, his muscles moving under the shiny black coat dark as the night. Atop the horse sat an equally powerful man, the man her heart belonged to, dressed casually in a white shirt and black slacks. What shocked her was the lack of saddle on the horse, Erik was riding bareback! She was worried for a moment but as she observed the two of them, it was clear there was mutual trust between the animal and its master and it was fascinating to watch.

They watched the two in silence for a few minutes before César slowed to a trot as Erik directed him towards the stables. Christine held her breath as they came closer until Erik effortlessly jumped off the horse with an elegant grace and led the stallion towards them.

"Ladies." He greeted with a nod, his eyes meeting Christine's for a moment longer before he led César into his stall, stroking a hand down the steed's strong neck and murmuring into his ear. He was so good with the animal and it warmed her heart to be a witness to this. Although she had never imagined she would be jealous of a horse but shook the ridiculous thought away as Erik closed the stall and fed César a piece of apple. 

"I believe you two have already met." He addressed Christine, his gaze steady, a tiny twitch of his lips in a smile. "This is César." Christine stepped closer to the stall and beheld the large stallion up close. He was a magnificent animal. He must have remembered her for he tossed his head and nickered excitedly. Erik let out a small chuckle and offered her a few pieces of the apple. "He remembers you." She gave him a smile and fed the horse the apple, his large lips tickling her palm yet her eyes connected with Erik's. It was as if they were in some sort of trance for a few moment before Meg broke the silence.

"Erik, Nyx was most amiable towards Christine earlier. Now that she is here, maybe she could ride her?" He seemed a bit surprised by that revelation and Christine turned to give her friend a glare.

"She hasn't been friendly to most people. Show me." She did as he asked and walked over to Nyx's stall, while Erik made a point to stand as far away so as not to influence the horse. Immediately the mare tossed her head, nickered and bumped Christine on her shoulder gently. She gave a happy snort and Christine couldn't help but let out a delightful laugh and fed her the rest of the apple. When she looked back at Erik, he was studying her, a hint of surprise and approval.

"You can take care of her if you want, Christine. Although for the first few times I would like to supervise in case she gets temperamental."

"Of course. Thank you." She smiled at him and inside did a happy little dance. This would give her an excuse to be alone with Erik for an undetermined amount of time, away from opera, away from everyone else, just him and her. Her merely nodded.

"If you excuse me, I have some work that needs to be done before our guests arrive. Ladies." Erik inclined his head and headed back towards the house. Christine watched his retreating back with a smile, looking forward to spending more time with him while attending to the horses.

"That glare was not necessary, considering what just happened." Meg poked her with an elbow and gave her a cheeky wink.

"I take it back, my dearest Meg!" Christine exclaimed and then laughed at her own silliness. She just felt happy like she hadn't in a long time - she had her family, a dream job and her Angel back. When their merriment dissipated somewhat, Meg dragged her to the direction of the garden house. It did not look like a shed, it was more like another home of sorts, situated in the main house's garden.

"What is this, Meg?"

"It's just a guest house. Erik sometimes uses it late at night when he doesn't want to disturb us while he's composing."

"Can we go in?"

"Of course. It should be open." Meg tried the door handle and it gave, allowing Christine to see the interior. It was not a large house by any means but it was cozy. One large room contained a living space and a small kitchenette in one corner and another room was hidden by a wall and sliding doors. There were large windows that let the sun in the light toned room, landing on a pristine white grand piano. She felt drawn to the beautiful instrument and her fingers itched to touch the ivory keys. However, they soon left and went back inside the house, cleaning up their rooms a little bit before Madame Giry instructed Meg to practice. Her friend was not too happy with this arrangement but told Christine she did not have to stay and watch. Christine obeyed and her feet led her automatically towards the guest house and behind the grand piano. 

Sitting down at the stool, she lifted the lid and played a simple tune to relax her fingers, then started on her scales. She sang a few warm-up songs, before her fingers launched into her own aria of their own accord. She began to sing softly, pouring all her love for that impossible masked man into it.

_"Who knows when love begins, who knows what makes it start,_  
one day it's simply there, alive inside your heart  
it slips into your thoughts, it infiltrates your soul,  
it takes you by surprise, then seizes full control 

_Try to deny it and try to protest,  
but love won't let you go, once you've been possessed"_

Erik and her feelings for him were the sole inspiration for her first composed aria and as Christine poured over the lyrics, she felt like she was writing them over again. How true these words were! She did not know when she had fallen for her Angel but when she had become aware of her feelings three years ago, it was startling, yet it felt right. She could not explain what she had felt upon that realization. It had been as if the world had shifted and everything had fallen into place.

_"Love never dies, love never falters,_  
once it has spoken, love is yours,  
love never fades, love never alters,   
hearts may get broken, love endures   
hearts may get broken, love endures" 

They broke each other's hearts several times over the years but she knew her love for him would not fade. She did not know what Erik felt for her now but dared to hope that maybe someday he could love her again. 

_"And soon as you submit, surrender flesh and bone,_  
that love takes on a life, much bigger than your own,  
it uses you at will, it drives you to despair,  
it forces you to feel, more joy than you can bear 

_Love gives you pleasure and love brings you pain,  
and yet when both are gone, love will still remain"_

She sighed as went into a small instrumental pause and that was when she felt a presence behind her. She turned and saw Meg leaning against the door frame, watching her with awe and curiosity. 

"That is beautiful, Christine. Where is it from?" Her fingers nearly faltered at the keys but she managed to repeat the instrumental passage over and over again.

"Well, I...I-I composed it." There was a pause where Meg just stared at her like she couldn't believe Christine was there.

"You composed this?" She left the door frame and sat next to her on the piano bench.

"Yes. When I was performing back in Sweden three years ago, I hired a piano tutor. He taught me how to play and eventually when I got better, I began to compose little pieces of songs. Until this." 

"Can you continue, please? I want to hear it in its entirety." Christine gave Meg a smile and continued with the song until she reached the grand finale.

_"Love never dies, love will continue,_  
love keeps on beating, when you're gone,  
love never dies, once it is in you,  
love may be fleeting, love lives on,  
love may be fleeting...love lives on!" 

Whatever happened now and wherever fate decided to take them, Christine knew that her love for Erik would never die. As she finished on a soft note, Meg clapped enthusiastically.

"It is so wonderful, Christine! And the fact that you are composing...I cannot still quite believe it. You must tell Erik, I am sure he will be very proud of you."

"Maybe later." Christine smiled discreetly at her friend. Both of them were unaware of a presence of another just outside the windows, listening to every note and every word with rapt fascination.

* * *

Erik could not concentrate on his latest composition, he kept being distracted by his thoughts. He was still so very surprised Nyx showed this much affection to Christine for the horse only seemed to prefer his own company since the beginning. He was also worried about Isabelle's reaction to Christine presence. Isabelle wasn't as clearly against Christine as Edward had been and he knew she liked 'Anna' a lot, so he hoped the two women would become friends again. For if they wouldn't...he did not dare to finish that thought.

When his mind wandered liked that and kept him from his work, he usually went for a walk or a ride. Considering that he had been riding not an hour ago, he opted for just visiting his beloved horses. He was about to start grooming César but suddenly stopped when a breeze carried music on it's tail. He recognized the soft tune of a piano and decided to go investigate. It seemed the music came from the guest house, so he walked in that direction. As the music got louder, he was sure someone was playing his piano in the small garden home. Who could it be? Neither Meg nor Antoinette played the instrument and while Christine could play a little melody with one hand, this was much more advanced playing. 

The person was a decent musician and could handle the instrument well, coaxing sweet melodies from the grand piano. Then, a sweet familiar voice accompanied the music and he knew with certainty that it was Christine playing. When did she learn to play like this? And why? There were so many things about her he didn't know from the past three years. He circled the house and chose a spot where no one could see him should they walk past, yet it allowed him to see inside the small building and hear what was happening inside.

He peeked inside and his breath was momentarily stolen. Christine sat at the piano, her fingers dancing over the ivory keys with passion and expertise he hadn't seen in a long time in other people. His chest swelled with pride for his former pupil and while he was curious how she became so proficient in playing, he also enjoyed the music. He recognized all the warm-up songs they had usually begun their lessons with but soon they all blended into a new melody, one he had never heard before.

From the way she played with passion and confidence, he knew Christine to be very familiar with the song. Erik wondered who composed the beautiful score but the thought soon left his mind as she sang about love, her voice a perfection that always amazed him. What surprised him was the fact that he could relate to the lyrics and they spoke to his heart. He got lost in the music until he heard Meg and Christine conversing inside.

"That is beautiful, Christine. Where is it from?" 

"Well, I...I-I composed it." Erik thought she could not surprise him anymore but he was proven wrong by her hesitant response. Christine, composing? He had underestimated the scope of her talents and at the same time selfishly hoped that he had been the one to influence her somewhat. The lyrics and the music were so heartfelt that he almost felt jealous of her dead husband. It was obvious Christine still loved the handsome Vicomte even after his death and her love would live long after she passed away. He stayed until the aria came to an end, then sighed and went back to the house.

As soon as he was inside, he heard the click of horse's hooves on the driveway in front of the house. Their guests have arrived.

 

* * *

 

Christine and Meg were walking back to the house when they heard commotion in front of the villa. They quickened their steps until they were witnessing a touching scene; a small boy, approximately 3 years of age, was lifted from a carriage and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him to Erik. Christine's heart warmed as she watched his lips stretched into a wide smile as he embraced the boy. She knew one day he would be a wonderful father and wished she was the one to bear his children. The boy laughed delightfully as Erik lifted him up and spun in a circle before settling him against his side.

She watched as the driver helped out the other passenger from the vehicle and held her breath, suddenly nervous. Isabelle was as beautiful as she remembered - tall, dark hair, piercing green eyes. She saw the other woman smile widely as she greeted Erik and kissed his cheek, then proceeded to greet Madame Giry and Meg. Christine purposefully stayed back, not wanting to draw attention. She saw Erik come closer when Isabelle approached her and lifted her eyes to hers. She didn't miss the look Isabelle gave Erik; it was a mixed worry and perhaps anger.

"I believe you two have already met." Erik cleared his throat, watching Isabelle's reaction closely.

"Yes, I remember. Hello." 

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, Mrs. McNeil." Christine opted for a formal approach, for she knew the other woman would not appreciate otherwise. There was a slightly awkward pause before Isabelle gestured to the small boy still in Erik's arms.

"This is my son, Charles." For the first time Christine could see the child up close. He was an adorable little thing; green eyes, black hair and a cute nose. What unsettled her was the strong resemblance between the boy and the man currently holding him. An uneasy feeling swept over her and made something in her stomach drop. Despite her inner turmoil, she smiled at the child.

"Hello, Charles." Isabelle's son was a little shy and buried his head in Erik's shoulder.

"Do not be like that. What do you say to Miss Christine?" The masked man coaxed the boy with a soft voice and a smile.

"Hello, Miss Chwistine." Charles' voice was sweet and quiet and she felt a genuine smile stretching her lips. 

"There's a good boy." He planted a kiss on the boy's forehead before placing him back on his feet on the ground. "Now run along, Lucia will give you something sweet." Charles happily skipped away to the awaiting maid, who took him inside.

"Erik, I told you. No sweets before lunch. You are spoiling him."

"I am allowed to, I don't see him enough as it is." Isabelle and Erik shared a look and a smile. Isabelle concluded with a nod as Erik grabbed their luggage and they all went back inside the house.

 

* * *

 

Lunch would have been almost slightly tense and awkward affair were it not for the small boy, who made everybody smile at his antics. Christine stayed silent for the whole meal, only listening to the conversation of the others. She learned that Isabelle and Charles resided in Rome and visited Florence every now and then. Isabelle had returned to work as a private music teacher and the rest of the conversation revolved around the new production of _Il Segreto_. 

Christine silently and discreetly observed Isabelle, Erik and Charles as they interacted. Erik fed the little boy his lunch and she could see they were both enjoying the experience. Erik was obviously not new in feeding the child and she wondered how much he was involved in the family's life. Christine's mind felt heavy with suspicion. Her heart could not believe it but her mind and eyes told her otherwise.

How could she have been be so blind? Even in London three years ago, Erik had been so concerned about Isabelle's health, the discreet smiles, the soft touches on the woman's protruding belly. She felt sick to her stomach at the realization. How could he? Mr. McNeil had been his friend and loved his wife so much it was easy to see. Yet they had both betrayed him and Isabelle bore Erik's child! She stared into her plate unseeing, her appetite gone. 

"Christine? Are you alright?" She lifted her head at Meg's question and found four pairs of concerned eyes focused on her. She could not look at Erik, Isabelle or Charles, so instead focused on her dear friend.

"I find that I am full already. If you would please excuse me." Her chair scraped slightly against the ground and she winced, picking up her half-eaten plate and carrying it to the kitchen as fast as her trembling legs allowed. Needing something to do with her hands, she started washing the dishes, ensuring the young maid that she wanted to help. Soon the lunch was thankfully over and as she stood near the kitchen window overlooking the backyard, she dried the dishes she just washed.

"Christine?" Meg's voice sounded from behind her and she turned briefly to regard her friend with a small smile that she could muster up. "Is everything okay?" No, not really, she wanted to say. She just shrugged one shoulder instead and focused her gaze back outside, where Erik and Charles were happily playing on the grass, while Isabelle watched over them with a soft smile on her face. Who could have imagined the fearsome Opera Ghost having fun with his offspring in the bright light of the day? It tore at her heart but still the knowledge did not diminish her feelings for him.

"I'm just thinking that I probably don't know Erik at all anymore." 

"What are you talking about, Christine? You know him well."

"I wish that was true. I may have known him in the past, or at least I thought I did. I just-" She trailed off and sighed heavily. Meg was patient and did not press her. "He will never look at me the way he looks at her." Surprise and puzzlement flashed across Meg's face but before she could say one word, there was a voice behind them.

"You are right about that."


	37. Uncovering

Chapter 37

Both Christine and Meg turned at the sound of Isabelle's voice behind them. Her face was unreadable and as her eyes drifted from Meg to Christine, she wanted to disappear. There was a fire in her eyes that was familiar, but she couldn't place where she had seen it before.

"Meg, could you please give us a moment?" Her friend nodded and gave Christine a last look before skittering away. Isabelle watched Meg go and then turned to her. "Come. Let us sit." They sat down at a small kitchen table that offered a view of the whole backyard, the man, the boy and now Meg playing happily.

"I have never realized Erik didn't tell you the truth until I heard you talk with Meg today." Isabelle gave a little chuckle, which completely changed her earlier countenance. "I do not know why he kept it a secret but I should not be surprised. It is Erik, after all." She smiled at Christine, who found her fingers folded at the table's surface all too fascinating. Isabelle laid her hand across hers. "Christine, no matter what happened between you in the past, I know he could never look at you as his sister."

For the first time Christine looked up and into Isabelle's eyes. The older woman's lips stretched into a soft smile. Christine had trouble processing what she had just been told. Sister? Erik and Isabelle were...siblings? The wave of relief that washed upon her at this revelation left her almost physically weak. She groaned and buried her head in her hands. She felt incredibly foolish for thinking Isabelle was Erik's lover. She had often wondered what was so familiar about the woman and now that she knew, she could see the distinct resemblance and now understood why Charles looked so much like Erik, despite Edward being his real father.

"I feel so foolish."

"Don't, it is not your fault. You thought we were lovers?" Christine just made a noise in agreement. "And that Charles was his son?" Mortified, Christine moaned and this time laid her forehead on her folded arms on the table. Isabelle laughed heartily but she could not see what was so amusing. After all, the thought of Erik having a child and loving another was painful. But then again, Isabelle didn't know the scope of Christine's feelings.

"He never told me he had a sister." Christine sighed then shook her head. "But he didn't told me much about himself at the Opera. I only know bits and pieces from his childhood."

"He did not know me back then. It was after the Opera burned down that he found me, by accident." They looked outside at the playing trio outside in the garden. Isabelle smiled fondly at the scene. Erik briefly looked up and a flash of concern passed over his face when he saw Isabelle and Christine sat together in the kitchen window. With Charles' arms wrapped around his neck he started to the direction of the house but Isabelle just smiled at him and slightly shook her head. He watched them for a few moments before the boy begged him to play another game.

"A couple of weeks after the disaster, he came to Boscherville, a town where he had been born and lived with our mother before he ran away. We met by coincidence at the mayor's office. Erik came for the copy of his birth certificate, I was there to settle our parents' inheritance. He could not believe I was his sister and I was so shocked and at the same time happy to see him. I never knew I had a brother until one day my mother told me. She was very frail and sickly and wished that she could find him and apologize for the way she had treated him. It wasn't easy to hear what she had put him through and to my shame I resented her after that for a long time. Unfortunately, she died before I could find him. I did not even know where to start or if he was still alive. She left him a letter in case I ever found him."

"What about your father?"

"Before I was born, he was in the Navy, so he was often away. He wasn't there when mother fell from a horse when she was pregnant with Erik." Christine took a deep breath, sensing where Isabelle was going with the tale. "She was about two months along when that happened and had no idea she had irreversibly harmed her child, leaving him with a deformity that has been the cause his soul is so scarred. When he was born, my mother was horrified but my father...he loved Erik so much. He did not care for the deformity, he only saw a beautiful boy." Christine's heart ached for Erik and his father. "Erik was about two when father had to leave for duty again and leave Erik in the care of our mother." Isabelle paused, evidently distraught by the events that followed. "I wish he had never left, Christine! Things would have been so very different if Erik had been shown love from the very beginning. Father loved him but he cannot remember that for he was too young." 

"He ran away from home when he was five. When father returned the year after that, she told him Erik had run away. She did not tell him the reason why. Father was heartbroken and they had moved to Amiens to escape the memories. That's where I was born two years later and grew up. They never told me I had an older brother, I do not know why. Father never stopped in his search until he died ten years ago. Mother died seven years ago."

"When I met Erik at the mayor's office, I thought that my father was standing there. It was him, exactly as I remembered him when I was younger. Charles Garnier had always been a very handsome man and the man standing next to me was the spitting image of him, save for the mask. We had a very, _very_ long talk. At first he was reluctant to trust me but eventually he told me _everything_. When we settled our parents' inheritance, Erik invited me on a journey to England. There he met Edward and introduced him to me and the rest, as they say, is history." Isabelle concluded with a sigh. Her tale was heartbreaking and Christine's heart went out to her family.

"I am sorry about Edward, Isabelle." She reached out and gave Isabelle's hand a gentle squeeze in support. "He was a good man." Christine remembered the last time she had seen Monsieur McNeil, the day Erik had left London. Even though he had not liked her, in the end he had helped her.

"Thank you. I am glad that he was able to be there the first two years of Charles' life." She smiled sadly, a faraway look in her eyes as she remembered her late husband. They sat in silence for a long moment before Christine felt the need to break it.

"I should apologize." Isabelle looked up at her in surprise.

"Apologize? What for?"

"For not telling you the truth. In London."

"There is nothing to apologize for. Had I been in your situation, I would have probably done the same. I think you have handled the situation remarkably well. I don't think I would've been strong enough. Do not worry about it, Christine." 

"You do not mind me being here? After all that I've done to Erik..." She trailed off when Isabelle shook her head.

"I do not blame you for your actions, Christine. You were so young and my brother he can be quite...well, intense. If he hadn't been so...him and courted you properly like any man should, none of this had to happen. As much as I'm protective of my brother, I could not hold that against you. We all make mistakes." Christine was amazed by the woman's ability to forgive and hoped that she could befriend Erik's sister again. It was so easy to talk to her and she was surprised at how different Isabelle's and her brother's personalities truly were.

"I should have never left. You see, the last few days in London opened my eyes. I should have stayed in the Opera that day, maybe I would have realized sooner..." Isabelle looked at her curiously and she blurted out. "I love your brother, Isabelle." Whatever Christine was expecting, a wide smile on Isabelle's face was not among those things.

"I had hoped you did." Christine realized that everything she had been thinking was actually the opposite. Would Isabelle never cease to amaze her? "I am glad you feel that way. Back in London I knew you were special and I knew you could make Erik happy. Even after I knew who you really were, it did not matter. I like you Christine and I am a hopeless romantic." Isabelle chuckled. "And as the last member of the Garnier family, I give you my blessing to court my brother."

"Me? Court Erik?" Christine hid a giggle at the thought while Isabelle just shrugged.

"Why not? He is not an ordinary man and yours is not an ordinary relationship. Do not tell him yet of your feelings, though. He is not ready for that. Just take baby steps and I am certain there will be an engagement within a few months." Her words gave Christine hope; could she be right? Feeling optimistic again, she smiled at Erik's sister.

"Now tell me, what did you do on your outings? He never told me." It was an innocent enough question but Christine could not help but blush furiously. With her cheeks aflame, she avoided Isabelle's eyes for a long moment. The other woman sat there stunned before mischievous grin spread across her face and she tried to stifle a laugh. "Oh." She said at last and exploded into laughter, while Christine's blush deepened.

"Is everything alright?" Meg peeked curiously into the kitchen, having heard Isabelle's merriment.

"Everything is just wonderful, Meg! Come, we should go outside, it's such a beautiful day! It would be a shame if we spent it all indoors." Meg just stared for a moment after Isabelle had left and then turned her gaze to Christine, who was still unsuccessfully trying to contain her blush.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, truly."

"You look like a tomato, Christine." Meg pointed out kindly and she gave her an unamused look. "About what you said earlier-"

"It is nothing. I was just foolish and perhaps a bit jealous. I was not aware they were siblings." Her friend said nothing and instead took her hands, pulling her from her seat and leading her outside.

They entered the garden to the sound of a deep and very masculine laugh that Christine felt all the way to her toes. She never thought she would hear Erik laugh but she had learned that today was full of surprises. He had allowed little Charles to tackle him into the grass and now held the boy up in the air, making the boy laugh delightfully. Her heart sang at the joy on Erik's face. It was clear he loved his nephew. She could clearly imagine him in a similar situation, only the child would be his flesh and blood and if God was willing, she would be the one to carry his progeny. She knew he would be a wonderful father. Hiding a discreet smile, she joined the ladies at the table on a large patio, drinking their tea, falling into a comfortable conversation.

A short while later Charles came running to his mother giggling, perching on her lap and reaching for a plate of biscuits on the table. Isabelle gently scolded him but gave him one piece to settle him down. Erik followed soon after, his hair and clothes dishevelled pieces of grass stuck and soil on his pristine white shirt and black trousers. He ran his hand through his hair several times to get them back under control and tried to brush away the dirt from his clothes, albeit a bit unsuccessfully. His eyes darted between her and Isabelle and as their eyes connected, Christine smiled at him reassuringly. He seemed to relax even more and took a vacant chair next to her, joining in their conversation.


	38. Rehearsals

The weekend went by surprisingly quickly and on Monday Christine found herself once more on a stage during rehearsals. They were going through the very first scene, which was Sara's aria she had sang for her second audition. While he did not sing in this scene, Florian as Marco was there in front with her as well, falling for Sara's charms as she took the first step in their relationship. 

Christine could feel a pair of eyes focused on them; Erik was standing off to the side, making sure the stage directions and blocking were done correctly. He looked thoughtful and completely focused, his eyes sharp. She found his stare a little unnerving, especially when this particular scene ended with her in Florian's arms, very close to kissing. She focused so much on that moment that she fumbled with her singing when the lead tenor placed his hands on her body. Casting a quick glance at Erik, she saw his dark eyebrow rise and a moment later he signalled for everyone to stop. Granted, it was only the orchestra and the two lead singers, but slightly off the stage were the chorus and ballet corps, waiting for their turns in rehearsals. She had glimpsed Meg's blonde head peeking curiously at them.

"There is absolutely no passion between you." Erik explained and from his tone she could hear he was disappointed. She had heard this feeling in his voice a few times when he was still her Angel. "Your characters are deeply in love with each other. You need to portray these feelings to the audience, sing the role, _feel_ the role. Again if you please."

Christine tried to portray her character's feelings in her performance, but she was too nervous. The man she loved was watching her in the arms of another man, while that other man was her best friend's lover. She could see Florian was trying as well but knew that it was not working out, so she wasn't surprised when Erik stopped the rehearsal once again.

"Christine, it was better but you are too tense. I know you can do much more." His remark conjured the memories of their passionate duet on stage of Don Juan. While she had been unaware of her own feelings, the music had brought out the most from her with the seductive, intoxicating lyrics. "Florian, I can see your attempts, but I need you to try harder." He sighed and walked over towards them. "I will show you." Christine barely had time to react as Erik striked up the orchestra, telling them to play only the last couple of bars from the score. She sung automatically, hyperaware of his body nearing hers.

_"Don't approach me, don't touch my skin,_  
I will burn you alive.  
You've approached me, you've touched my skin,  
now you are Mister Hyde!" 

She let her voice soar when he closed the distance between them, capturing her from behind and running his hands down her arms and waist. She succumbed to his touch without scruples; being in his arms again felt heavenly and she sang as the song had been meant to - with great passion and love. At the lasting end of the aria, he spun her around and drew her flush against his strong body as the stage directions dictated. Christine could feel his breath washing over her face as they assumed the ending pose of their characters nearly kissing before being interrupted by Sara's father. Her eyes could only focus on his lips, moist and slightly parted and she found herself leaning more into him, her knees weak, wanting to feel his lips on hers once more. The music stopped and he released her to speak with Florian. She instantly missed his touch and nearly followed him as he drew away. She flushed slightly, clearing her throat. She pointedly ignored Meg's knowing grin and focused on Erik's instructions.

"If it helps you, you may pretend Christine is Meg. I only need you to get those feelings across to the audience." Determinedly, Florian nodded and assumed his earlier position. Erik returned to his spot on the side and motioned for the orchestra to start. Acting with Erik had been easy - she did not have to pretend and only expressed the longing for him in her voice and movements.

Christine lost track of how many times this aria was rehearsed that day. She was getting frustrated and Erik seemed to grow more angry with each repeat. Finally he decided that their acting performance was good enough and let Madame Giry rehearse with the ballet corpse while he stalked off into his office.

A week of intense rehearsals later, everyone was surprised to hear of a change to the score - a new song performed solely by Florian would be inserted into the opera. Set just before Marco's departure with Sara's father to visit her, it spoke of his sadness and loneliness, yet was full of hope of seeing his beloved again, to hear her sing to him again. As they stood aside to watch Florian rehearse the song. The first soft strains of a piano filled the stage and Christine listened with rapt fascination as the lyrics unfolded. They spoke to her on a deep level and her eyes involuntarily slid to the man watching from the other side of the stage. Erik looked deep in thought, even more so than usual during their rehearsals and she wondered what was on his mind and why this was such a sudden change in the script.

Once Florian finished singing, Erik nodded in satisfaction and let the cast have a few minutes break. Christine turned to Meg, surprised to see a look of wonder in her face. The ballerina looked at her friend with wide blue eyes.

"Christine, I have heard that melody before. That song..."

"That is not unusual, you must have heard him composing it recently."

"No, you don't understand. I first heard this when we came here, three years ago. Before he even thought about writing an opera." She paused, giving Christine a meaningful look. "I think he wrote that for you." 

"Don't be silly, Meg." She brushed her friend off and focused as the ballet corps filled the stage, ready to rehearse their part. "This is a love song of sorts."

"Exactly my point." Meg said as she walked away to join her fellow dancers. Christine just stood there, not knowing whether to believe her friend or not. Nevertheless, she dared to hope.

 

* * *

 

The closer the date to the opera premiere was, the more nervous and short tempered the cast and crew became. Christine was surprised at Erik's reign over his temper and that it had taken him this long until his patience snapped. Right now all the cast stood to the side as he unleashed his wrath on a new young orchestra member, who couldn't seem to be able to play a few bars of an aria correctly. It was frustrating for all present and she did not blame Erik for snapping. She hid a smile as he continued ranting; it was good seeing him like this again. Many would think her mad but she was glad he hadn't changed that much. Sure, he managed to control his temper a lot since their days at the Opera Populaire, but when provoked, he could get angry like before.

Just as she was about to walk over to calm him as his anger reached its peak, he had somewhat calmed on his own. To Christine's shock he mumbled an apology to everyone present, gave them a lunch break and stalked to the direction of his office. She stood watching after him for a long while, until Meg, who stood next to her, spoke up.

"I know what you are thinking." Christine lifted surprised eyes to her friend. "Go." After a split second of hesitation she followed the path Erik had taken before. She knocked on his office door and heard a clear "enter" from within. His voice seemed calm as if he had never got angry, so she opened the door quietly to find him at his desk scribbling something down. He didn't look up at her entrance, so she closed the door quietly behind her.

"Are you okay?" She asked, wishing he would look at her but he was too engrossed in his work. 

"I am fine. I am sorry for my outburst." Christine smiled to herself and came around his desk. He didn't seem to mind her invading his personal space or maybe didn't notice. She looked over his shoulder and found him scribbling down music. Another smile stretched her face.

"It's alright, I understand, Erik." She laid a hand on his shoulder, shocked at how knotted the muscles were. Using both of her hands, she absentmindendly worked out the tension in his shoulders with her fingers, applying gentle but firm pressure. In the recent weeks she had become more tactile with him and while he didn't seem to touch her much except the occasional accidental brush of their hands, she took every opportunity to touch him, going out of her way to plan her _accidental_ touches. "I do not blame you, nor the entire company does. I cannot imagine how much work running a theatre entails and on top of that it is _your_ work that is going to be performed soon. It is understandable you want everything perfect." There was a long moment of silence before he spoke up.

"May I ask what you are doing?" Erik's tone sounded a bit amused and Christine noticed he had stopped writing. Her cheeks tinged pink, she withdrew her hands and shuffled back to the front of his desk. He did not seem to be angry at her intimate touch, and the expression on his face mirrored the tone in his voice.

"I'm sorry."

"No need, it helped. Thank you, Christine." He dropped his gaze back to his work. She wasn't sure if he had meant the massage or her words but she took it neverthless.

"Anytime." She said quietly and scurried out of the door, her cheeks still aflame.

* * *

 

The last week was very intense in rehearsals, everyone felt excited yet nervous about performing a previously unheard opera. They wished it a great success, for their director's mastery of music and lyrics was extraordinary and every company member loved his work. 

It was two days and two nights before the premiere when Christine stepped on the stage for her scheduled rehearsal only to find a small group of chorus members and ballerinas right in the middle. She looked to the direction of orchestra, surprised to find Mr. Reyer looking nervous, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief. It seemed Erik was not yet here, otherwise rehearsals would be in full swing. She walked over to Meg, who was surrounded by the cast.

"What is going on?" They all turned to look at her and she could see the worry and anxiety in their faces. Raising an eyebrow, she locked eyes with Meg, hoping to find some explanation.

"Christine, there has been an accident." She spoke in low tones and Christine's heart leapt to her throat. Did something happen to Erik? Or Madame Giry? "Florian had a nasty fall last night and broke his leg." She hated herself for the relief she felt yet worried for the lead tenor.

"Will he be okay?" Meg didn't look too distraught, so Christine figured he was going to be alright.

"Yes, the doctor said it was a clean break but that it will heal for the next 6 to 8 weeks if not longer."

"Erik is not going to like that." As if on cue, her words were followed by two sets of footsteps and a familiar voice.

"I do not pay you for idling around when there should be rehearsals going on." She turned and saw Erik, clad in his shirt and trousers as was customary in the recent weeks. The weather started to get warmer and warmer outside and the temperature rose in preparation of summer. Madame Giry stood at his side, her stern expression looking over their small group. "Back to work, please." The chorus girls and ballerinas exchanged looks and no one moved from their spot. Erik's eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to one side.

"Is there a problem?" Christine could see his eyes scan the group until they settled on hers. She felt a slight poke from Meg in her back. Apparently she would be the bearer of bad news. She cleared her throat.

"There has been an accident. Florian broke his leg last night. It should be healed in two months time or more." She blurted out as quickly as possible, waiting for the inevitable rise of his temper.

"How serious is it? Is he going to be alright?" Erik asked instead, completely surprising her.

"Yes, the doctor said there were no complications." Meg piped up beside her. Erik just nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good. Now back to the rehearsals, please."

"But Signor, we don't have a male lead!" Once one of the members of the chorus spoke, more joined her. "What about the understudy?"

Christine knew that Florian's understudy was good but not ready to step on the stage within mere 2 days. There was only one option she could think of, besides postponing the premiere or playing a different opera. However, she knew that the latter two were not an option for him. She watched Erik closely, wondering if he would come to the same conclusion.

"The understudy is nowhere near ready. The premiere is only two days away. We will not be cancelling either."

"But Signor, who is going to play the part of Marco?" After a few moments of tense silence, only one word was uttered.

"Me." Christine could see something flash in his eyes but it was gone just as fast. She was delighted he thought of the same solution and was excited to share the stage with him. There were several hushed whispers among the cast; some had never heard Erik sing, while the former cast from the Paris opera remembered their last performance. Christine wanted nothing more than to hear him sing again and get lost in his golden voice. "Now back to work if you please." He started to the direction of his usual observing spot but was stopped by a chorus girl.

"Signor, will you not rehearse with us?" He turned on his heel and gave the girl a small, somewhat sad smile.

"There is no need. I know this opera and stage directions better than anyone." As he turned back and the cast took their positions, everyone missed the smile on Christine's face.

 

* * *

 

That night Christine could not sleep, so she roamed the dimly lit corridors of the theatre. Due to the busy theatre schedule, Christine, Meg and her mother moved temporarily to the theatre and stayed there overnight. Christine's room was beautiful and reminded her of the little room she had had back in Opera Populaire. It was much larger than that and she felt very at home in between the lovely lavender walls.

On one hand she was sad for Florian and his injury, on the other incredibly excited. Acting opposite Erik again was a dream come true and with him she would not be nervous during the more daring duet. It was difficult singing and acting that song with Florian, kissing him on stage felt strange and awkward, especially when Erik was just a few metres away, watching their every move in rehearsals. 

But now he was the one she would kiss and touch and sing about passion with, for three weeks! 

She had not seen or talked to him much during the past week and she missed him already. In the few weeks since their conversation in library, they became closer as friends. Late at night she would go down the library in the house to read and often Erik would join her to either talk about her recent novel or to sit by the fire and read as well. She missed those quiet nights.

As she turned around a corner, she saw Erik's silhouette at the end of the corridor. She had been wandering for a while and lost track of where she was. Needing to talk to him, she quickened her step and called out to him, only to let out a soft cry as she found herself on her hands and knees on the floor, a brief sharp pain shooting up her leg. She heard a muttered curse and then footsteps that were heading in her direction. She turned to sit on the ground, trying to gather back her lost dignity before Erik came to her side.

"Christine?" Then he was suddenly crouched next to her, his eyes shining like two emeralds in the dim lightning of the theatre's corridors. "Are you hurt?" His eyes scanned her form and she blushed when she realized she was only in her thin nightshift.

"I am fine." She scrunched her nose, rubbing lightly at her ankle. She had had her fair share of sprained ankles but from what she could tell now, this was thankfully not the case. She heard him sigh.

"What are you doing here so late at night?"

"I couldn't sleep. I think I am lost. And I wanted to talk to you. Then I fell." There was another sigh and a shuffle and then she was suddenly lifted into his arms.

"Foolish woman." He murmured and she smiled as he carried her through the corridors back into her room, relaxing in his embrace and closing her eyes. If only he could hold her like this for the rest of the night!

All too soon they were back in her room and Erik gently lowered her on the bed in a separate part of her dressing room, mindful of her hurt foot. He sat on one side of the bed and slightly lifted the hem of her night dress. He gently took her injured foot into his hands, tenderly massaging the area around the ankle, moving her foot in little circles. His touch on her bare flesh conjured up forbidden memories and unleashed dozens of butterflies in her stomach. A short quiet moan bubbled up from her throat before she could stop it and he looked at her in worry.

"Does it hurt?" Christine could not possibly tell him now that no, it did not hurt and that it was a moan of a different sort for he would not believe her. 

"A little bit." She lied and watched as he stood and walked into the adjacent bathroom. She wondered what he was doing but he was back in a minute with a long wet strip of cloth. She wanted to tell him cold compress was not necessary but let him spoil her. She did not feel the freezing cold cloth as he wrapped it tight around her ankle, his touch burned her skin.

"You are not to put more strain on that foot until the premiere. I do not want to see you stand or walk unless necessary. Rehearse sitting if you must, although I am confident you're well prepared."

"Okay." She would agree with anything as long as he kept touching her. She shook her head a bit to get rid of these thoughts.

"After all, I cannot sing both leads."

If anyone happened to pass by her dressing room, they would have heard Christine's delighted laughter.


	39. Il Segreto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't own anything. :)

The night of the opera premiere soon loomed upon the theatre and Christine felt more nervous than ever. Her stomach was doing flips as she watched the guests arriving outside from her dressing room window. She was dressed for her first scene and one of the costume designers were just putting finishing touches on her dress when there was a knock on her door. Meg's blonde head peeked inside first and then revealed her friend in all her ballet finery. The assistant deemed Christine's dress finished, so she left the two women alone.

"Christine, are you alright? You look a bit pale." Meg looked her over with worry.

"I am fine. Just a little nervous."

"You have no reason to be nervous. You are simply sublime!" Christine looked unconvinced, so Meg continued. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I do not even know! I just want this opera to go well, more than well! It is his masterpiece and I don't want to be the one to spoil it in any way."

"Now you are just being silly, how would you spoil it? I know that everything will go smoothly once you are on that stage and later you will laugh at your earlier nervousness." The blonde woman gave her a radiant smile, which brought a small smile upon her face as well.

"Thank you, Meg." She embraced her friend tightly, mindful of their costumes and Meg's intricate hair style. Her own hair was left cascading down her back for her first scene. "Do you know where I can find Erik?"

"He should be in his office." Meg gave her a cheeky grin and a wink and practically pushed Christine out of her own dressing room. She took several deep breaths on her way to Erik's office; her need to see him before the performance was silly but she could not help it. She had often seeked her Angel's support before any performance when he had still been just a voice; the sound of his voice had always put her at ease and settled her anxiety. And now, he would sing on that stage with her! She could not wait to hear him sing, it had been five long years and she had missed it.

She neared his office, noting with surprise his door was wide open. Just as she was about go around the door and knock, there was his voice, humming a familiar melody. The humming changed and his voice came soft but clear from the room and she listened with rapt fascination hidden behind the door with her eyes closed.

_"In moments, mere moments, drums will roll,_  
there you'll stand just like before,  
the crowd will hush-" 

There was a notable pause and she opened her eyes again, wondering if he would continue. She did not have to wait long, for he continued:

_"and then in one sweet rush-"_

She was so lost in his voice that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps until a knock on the other side of the door halted him mid-song and made her jump.

"Erik?"

"Yes, Antoinette?" His voice was calm and he didn't seem to be angry at Madame Giry's interruption.

"The opera starts in ten minutes."

"Thank you. How is the cast faring?"

"Everyone is ready and excited to perform." Christine could hear the smile in her foster mother's voice. "Meg told me Christine is somewhat nervous though."

"She will excel, I have no doubt about that. They will love her." The confidence in Erik's voice eased her mind and gave her own a lift as well. She bit her lip and smiled, hurrying backstage, his song still ringing in hear ears, sweet as honey.

 

* * *

 

A moment later she stood in the wings of the stage, peeking out at the fully packed theatre. Everyone had been so excited about the previously unheard opera that the tickets were sold out within mere moments. Standing here, just minutes away from her first debut in Erik's theatre, she reflected on how far she had come since her debut in Paris and after everything she had been through. Twists and turns of fate had brought her back to Erik and she hoped that this time fate stood by her side. As one of the cast introduced the opera, she felt Erik's presence behind her. 

"No need to be nervous." His rich voice so close to her caused all tension and nervousness to simply just fall away and she found herself smiling. The orchestra started a sweet uplifting melody as the opera started. Christine thought the beginning was very clever; to show the passage of time as Sara and Marco grew up together, Erik had hired two 6 year old children, who started off the opera by chasing each other across the stage and between the props. They ran to the wings and another pair of children, this time around fifteen and clad in wigs matching her and Erik's hair, chased each other next. She drew her eyes from the scene to look back at Erik briefly. She could see the tension in the corners of his mouth and the nervousness in his eyes.

"You should take your own advice, Monsieur." She said quietly and gave him a beaming smile just as the children skipped back to the wings. With one last look back at him she ran onto the stage with a lilting laugh, Erik catching up with her with long strides. Her heart thundered in her chest as he cornered her against a tree prop and braced his arm against it next to her head. He was so very close and she was reminded of how intoxicating his scent really was. She looked into his eyes, those infinite pools of blue and green, and felt a burst of love for him spiralling from her. The orchestra started the introduction of her first aria and she poured her heart and soul into the lyrics, maintaining eye contact with Erik even as she moved away from him, her words enticing him to action.

As the aria came to a close and the scene they had rehearsed together, she fell into his arms willingly, wanting to feel his hands on her body, his breath near her ear. She let the last note soar as he spun her around and drew her flush against his body. Her fingers brushed his neck as she lifted herself on her toes slightly, their lips a mere breath apart. She was ready to bridge the tiny gap but the voice of Sara's father across the stage interrupted her. Her eyes met Erik's for a brief moment before he released her and hid from the father character. She did not need to act disappointed at the interruption; she felt it in every pore of her body but in her rational mind she knew the opera was far from over and the opportunity to kiss him was not far away.

As Sara returned after the night spent with Marco, Christine conjured everything she had felt when Erik had left her in London and translated it to her character on stage. She had been devastated, so she knew what Sara was going through and projected her grief at not seeing him ever again as Sara left her father's house to marry Alberto. After this scene she hurried backstage to make room for the ballet number and to prepare for the next scene. She changed her dress and a maid helped with her hair, pinning it up loosely, leaving three strands of curly hair fall down her front. She did not want to miss Erik's first song of the opera, so with quick steps she came back to the wings of the stage, watching as the ballet corps finished, the curtain fell and the props changed.

She saw Erik take his place at the desk and pick up a single sheet of paper. She could not see what was on it for his shoulder was blocking the view but she could see the tension in him and the way he swallowed several times. Mentally she sent him her love and encouragement.The curtain was pulled open and the first sweet strains of the piano introduction began. He looked up from the paper and then across the audience as the piano stopped and waited until he started singing. He remained quiet for a few agonizing moments and Christine thought that maybe he was too nervous but then he looked back down at the paper and began to sing. Her eyes slid closed automatically as his voice caressed her and she could have sworn she heard a collective sigh from the female part of the audience. 

_"The day starts, the day ends, time crawls by_  
night steals in, pacing the floor  
the moments creep, yet I can't bear to sleep  
till I hear you sing 

_And weeks pass, and months pass, seasons fly_  
still you don't walk through the door  
and in a haze I count the silent days  
till I hear you sing once more" 

Something about this song spoke to her and she opened her eyes to watch him. He commanded the stage and captivated not only the audience, but also the cast and crew standing in the wings and up in the rafters. He turned slightly where he sat at the desk and she could now see what he was holding; it was a drawing, a portrait of her and she wondered whether he had drawn it himself or commisioned someone to do it. He rose and walked to the center of the stage, abandoning the piece of paper on the table. As he continued, she now knew what it was that drew her to this song; the past three years without him felt exactly the same, the lyrics perfectly described the lonely years. Could Meg have been right? Shaking herself from her thoughts, her eyes returned back to the powerful man on the stage. Erik sang with passion and portrayed the character better than Florian ever did. As he walked somberly around the stage, at one point their eyes had met before he turned back to the audience. 

_"And music, your music, It teases at my ear  
I turn and it fades away and you're not here_

_Let hopes pass, let dreams pass, let them die!"_

Her heart hammered in her chest wildly as he took his performance to the next level, showing Marco's grief at losing Sara as he swept all the papers cluttering the desk to the ground, falling down to his knees, picking up the drawing and gently running his fingers across the lines. She was captivated by him and the emotions she felt rolling from him felt all too real.

_"Without you, what are they for?_  
I'll always feel, no more than halfway real  
Till I hear you sing once more!" 

Goosebumps rose on her skin as he held the last note and a delicious shiver ran up her spine. His performance was magnificent and considering the applause he got when the curtain fell again, the audience thought so as well. Pride swelled within her breast and she bit her lip in nervous anticipation of their duet. She tried to catch Erik's eye as he turned and went to the opposite wing, but was unsuccessful. She did not dwell on it for she needed to be on stage for her next scene - saying goodbye to Alberto as he once again left for a business trip, leaving Sara and little Emma home alone, waiting for the arrival of her father. She sang a sweet little lullaby to her on-stage daughter, a lullaby she fondly remembered from the Paris Opera and her Angel singing it to her when she was little. 

In the next scene, her father arrived and they launched into a happy family duet expressing their love to each other and the elation of seeing each other again after 5 years. At that moment she became Sara, pouring all of her into the character. Once her father left, there was a small pause before the prop door burst open and the orchestra boomed loudly around her, a little bit startling her. She heard a few gasps from the audience as Erik appeared, dark and alluring in the doorway, dressed in a black suit and white shirt. Her heart hammered wildly and a shiver ran through her, the combination of the powerful music and his presence breathtaking. She rose a delicate hand to her forehead and and it was too easy to collapse onto the ground in a staged faint. 

Christine did not hear his footsteps as he approached but felt his presence as he dropped to one knee beside her, turning her on her back. He caught her around her torso, lifting her up and into his arms. He held her tenderly and she relished in their brief closeness until he sat her gently down in an armchair and knelt right beside it. Upon waking, Sara confronted the man she loved, angry, yet still so very in love with her childhood friend.

" _My Sara-_ " He reached out to her face but she cut him off and pushed his hand away, singing to him incredulously.

" _Your Sara?! I was yours one brief night long ago, long ago, with a man that I no longer know!_ " She broke away from him and stood a few feet away while he sang behind her and she could feel him approach until he was standing directly behind her, his breath ruffling her bare neck, sending a pleasant shiver down her body.

" _Ah, Sara! You came and found where I hid, don't you deny that you did, that long ago night.._ " He clasped his hands on her shoulders and continued singing. " _Once there was a night, beneath a moonless sky. Too dark to see a thing, too dark to even try..._ " He smoothed his hands down her arms and she forced herself not to lean back into his touch and to keep her eyes open. Instead, she once again left his side, sitting on an ottoman, turned away from him.

" _I strode to your side to tell you I must go, I couldn't see your face, yet trembled at your voice. And I touched you..._ " Suddenly as she sang, the line between the opera and reality blurred, the memories from the night three years ago coming forth in her mind, the feelings she had experienced in the forefront of her singing.

" _And I felt you..._ "

" _And I heard those ravishing refrains..._ " Their voices joined and soared through the auditorium and made the hairs on her arms and at the back of her neck stand on end. They fit so well together even after all these years.

" _The music of your pulse..._ "

" _The singing in your veins!_ " His voice was passionate and she felt his eyes on her but the stage directions told her not to turn yet, even if she desperately wanted to, to see the emotion in his eyes.

" _And I held you..._ " She closed her eyes and remembered his intimate touch, could have sworn she felt it right then along her arms.

" _And I touched you..._ " 

" _And embraced you..._ "

" _And I felt you..._ "

" _And with every breath and every sigh..._ "

" _I felt no longer scared..._ " 

" _I felt no longer shy..._ " 

" _At last our feelings bared, beneath the moonless sky._ " She turned and watched him stood up and approach her as their voices came together again. He dropped to one knee beside her, his stare so intense she had to look away towards the audience. He put his cheek gently onto her shoulder and her hands itched to touch him.

" _And blind in the dark, as soul gazed into soul, I looked into your heart, and saw you pure and whole..._ " She gave into the impulse and caressed the back of his head, disregarding the stage direction which told her to just sit still. She felt him slightly stiffen in surprise but he recovered swiftly, taking her hand in between both of his.

" _Cloaked under the night, with nothing to suppress, a woman and a man, no more and yet no less._ " She felt his arm as it curled around her waist while the other gripped her hand. She was drawn to him like a moth to a flame, his voice caressing her ears. Her throat felt dry and she swallowed a few times. " _And I kissed you..._ "

" _And caressed you..._ "

" _And the world around us fell away, we said things in the dark, we never dare to say._ " As they sang to each other, their faces so close that their noses brushed a few times, she could not stop her eyes from wandering to his mouth, wanting to capture his lips with hers and relearn his taste and texture. Even as they sang the line, she felt the world and everything in it disappear, leaving only the two of them in their passionate duet. He hoisted her up on her wobbly legs from her seat and she gripped his jacket lapels tightly to support herself before she found her equilibrium.

_"And I caught you..."_ Erik had his arms closed tight around her waist, their bodies pressed flush against one another as another set of memories of that night assaulted her mind. 

_"And I kissed you..."_ Her fingers tightened around his lapels, wanting to bring him even closer, let him know and feel her love.

_"And I took you..."_

_"And I begged you.."_ Christine marvelled at the harmony their voices made as she stared into his eyes, feeling him caress her cheek with the tips of his fingers. 

_"With a need too urgent to deny, and nothing mattered then, except for you and I, again and then again, beneath the moonless sky."_ She vaguely remembered her stage directions and raised her own hand, reaching for his cheek. He drew away suddenly, leaving her cold and bereft of his presence, watching as he paced across the stage as he explained as Marco why he had left his beloved. Christine had a brief moment when she wondered why Erik had left her in that manner but decided not to dwell on it in that moment as he sat down heavily on the prop piano bench. Her next words came out strong, angry and accusing and again the line between the opera and her own reality faded into obscurity.

_"And I loved you!"_ The conviction in her voice made him turn to her and with quick strides she was near him again, staring straight into the green orbs of the man who held her heart, putting all of her frustration, anger, joy and love into her performance. His eyes were riveted on hers as she continued. _"Yes I loved you! I'd have followed anywhere you led! I woke to swear my love, and found you gone instead!"_ He caught her around her waist and drew her closer, her hand automatically fell on his shoulders, feeling the strength of his muscles. 

_"And I loved you!"_ Her fingers slid from his shoulders back to his lapels and she gripped them tight, wanting to shake him and see the reality that yes, she loved him, she had always loved him.

_"I loved you!"_

_"And I left you!"_

_"How I loved you!"_

_"And I had to, both of us knew why."_ He pulled her even closer to him, resting his masked cheek against her stomach as they sang together.

_"And yet I won't regret, from now until I die, the night I can't forget, beneath the moonless sky."_ With baited breath she watched as he stood, their bodies not even an inch apart. They were supposed to kiss now per the stage directions and when he dipped his head, she met him halfway, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. Their kiss was a mere brushing of lips at first but she wanted more, _needed_ more. As if reading her thoughts, he deepened the kiss and her knees nearly gave out at the sheer pleasure. She knew they had to part but felt it physically impossible to do so at the moment. The music around them slowed down and at last Erik broke off the kiss. With a great effort Christine followed her next stage directions, leaving his embrace to stand further apart from him turned towards the auditorium, beginning another one of their duets.

_"Once upon another time our story had only begun,_  
you chose to turn the page, and I made choices too.  
Once upon that other time we did what we thought must be done,  
and now we have no choice, we do what we must do 

_We love, we live, we give what we can give,  
and take the little we deserve."_

She marveled at Erik's music and its poignant lyrics as she sang Sara's part of the song, feeling his eyes on her. It was his turn to sing and let her eyes close at the exquisite sound, only opening them once she intertwined her voice with his.

_"Once upon another time I knew how our story would end,_  
and maybe I was wrong, but now the moment's gone.  
Were it still that other time I'd make time itself somehow bend,  
but now I'm not that strong, and time keeps moving on..." 

_"We love, we live, we give what we can give,  
and take the little we deserve."_

At last she turned and their eyes met as they sang the last part of the song. His gaze pulled her in as he came closer, invading her personal space, reaching with his hand to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. Before his skin touched hers, her on-stage father interrupted them, making them jump apart guiltily. Her heart still raced wildly in her chest and her lips tingled from Erik's kiss but she automatically joined in the song for the three of them, pushing these memories back to her mind to cherish when she was alone again.

* * *

 

The act soon ended and was replaced with a ballet number. She looked around the backstage area and sighed. Erik seemed to have the habit walking to the other direction she did. They had not talked at all tonight, except for their brief exchange just before the opera started. At last she spotted his figure, crouched down to the eye-level of little Violetta, who played Marco and Sara's daughter Emma. He spoke to her in gentle hushed tones and the little girl listened intently, her features clearly displaying her happiness. Christine's heart swelled at the sight; he was so good with children, the way he calmed Violetta in rehearsals and just before appearing on stage, the way his face lit up when he was around Charles and yet, Christine could not forget the time when she had been a little orphaned girl and he had taken her under his protective wing. She knew without a shadow of doubt that he would be a wonderful father.

The ballet ensemble came to a close and she watched Erik stand up to his full height, ready to grace the stage once again for the last act. Christine saw little Violetta reach up and place her tiny hand trustingly into his. He seemed surprised by the action but looked down at the girl and gave her a sweet heartbreaking smile, one that made her heart stutter in her chest. He glanced up and found her watching them with a soft smile on her face. That was when Violetta noticed Christine as well and pulled Erik in her direction. When at last they were next to her, she could not quite tear her gaze from Erik's lips, remembering how they had felt upon hers tonight. The little girl took Christine's hand as well and for a short peaceful moment she felt like they were her real little family. 

Taking a deep breath, she stepped on the stage with Violetta and Erik in tow. They were still hidden by the curtain but soon they soft strains of happy music drifted to them. They took their positions and as the curtain rose, assumed their roles; Christine and Violetta playing together while Erik stood aside, gazing at them intently. With a smile she sent her on-stage daughter to prepare for bed before his voice boomed from behind her.

_"How could you think I wouldn't guess?_  
How could you think I wouldn't know?   
Do you have something to confess?   
I want the truth right now if so!" 

After a short pause where she tried to portray Sara's inner turmoil, she began to sing, turning softly to face the man behind her.

_"Once upon another time, you loved me yet left me alone!  
But that's not all you did, you left me with our child."_

She watched as he let the shock pass over his face before he slumped down onto the ottoman in defeat. She continued.

_"Ever since that other time, I've wished you could somehow have known,  
I kept the secret hid, the secret my marriage forbid, what else could I have done?_

_Just love..."_

**"My child...."**

_"Just live..."_

**"My girl..."**

_"Just give what I could give and take what little I deserve."_ She slowly sat next to him and took his hand in hers. Stricken, he looked up at her and she smiled and sang softly. _"Our child..."_ She let her voice trail off and he drew her close into his protective embrace. She cherished every second in his arms, it felt so right. She licked her lips in nervous anticipation on what was to come. Following the stage directions, he kissed her then, a sensuous slide of his mouth against hers. She opened up to him eagerly and feeling bold, the tip of her tongue brushed his lower lip. She felt a groan rumble in his chest but he didn't let it out. Their passionate kiss was interrupted by Alberto, her on-stage husband, who returned unexpectedly from his business trip, witnessing their whole encounter and Sara's confession. 

He sang, hurt and angry and when he drew a pistol from his jacket, Erik quickly hid her behind him, protecting her. She felt a sense of dèja-vu, seeing Erik on the wrong end of the weapon sent her heart thudding wildly in her chest, even though she knew it was just a prop and everyone was acting. She clung to his back as Alberto sang about betrayal and revenge, intent on killing Sara's lover. He aimed the gun at Erik and she pushed him away just as the deafening shot rang out through the theatre, a loud collective gasp from the audience as she fell on her knees, clutching her side.

There was another shot and the tenor playing Alberto sank to the floor as well; the aim of her on-stage father did not miss its target. Before she fell completely, Erik's arms were around her, cradling her to his body. He sang of his despair, his voice breaking in the middle and to Christine it was the most beautiful sound. His gaze was full of sorrow and she was reminded of that painful night five years ago. She gave him a small encouraging smile and sang weakly.

_"Kiss me one last time..."_

He pulled her closer and did as she asked; his kiss was desperate and she felt a little choked up by their emotional performance. She forced her lips still, her hand falling from his cheek down to her side, allowing death to take her character. He pulled her limp body even closer, his ragged breath heavy on her neck. The soft strains of a sad melody did not drown out the various sniffles she had heard from the auditorium and she forced herself not to smile. She felt him tenderly kiss the top of her head before he moved, and another pair of arms held her close; her on-stage father mourning his daughter.

The sad music reached its crescendo and she wished she could see the final interaction of Marco and Emma, who finally acknowledged him as her father and fell into his embrace. The lights darkened on the stage, the curtain went down and there was a stunned silence before an enormous deafening applause broke out in the auditorium. She breathed a sigh of relief and finally opened her eyes. The actor playing her father helped her to her feet with a smile which she returned. She felt elated, her heart nearly bursting from her chest. She looked around the stage but found Erik and little Violetta gone and swallowed a tiny sigh of disappointment. After all, she would see him afterwards.

She waited backstage for her turn at the curtain call; she and Erik were the last to take their bows. In a few quick steps she was on the stage once more, the applause neverending, the cheer of the audience prompting a wide smile on her face. She moved off to the side and waited for Erik's arrival. He strode onto the stage and she watched him closely; she saw the nervousness in his face, perhaps even fear of the audience's reception to his masterpiece. One glance at the whole auditorium on their feet made her feel so incredibly proud of him and when she returned her gaze to him, he seemed deeply moved.

_Enjoy it, my love. This is all for you._


	40. Confrontation

Christine's heart was still beating fast from the euphoria of the opera's premiere. The applause had been tremendous and lasted for a long time even after the cast took their very last bows and the curtain went down. Standing next to Erik, holding his hand as they did so, she hadn't felt more proud in her life. It was their shared triumph, not just his, or just hers, but both of them and of course the rest of the cast.

On light feet she hurried to her dressing room, wanting to change quickly, so that she could meet with the public and most importantly, speak with Erik. Before she could close the door, there was a delighted squeal coming from her blonde-haired friend as she ran after her.

"Oh, Christine!" She giggled and took both of her hands. "Did you hear the audience? I do not think I've ever heard so much applause in my life! And my cheeks are hurting already!" Despite the hindrance, she gave Christine a beaming smile and a knowing look. "I told you there was no need to be nervous, you were simply amazing! I hope Florian will forgive me, but you and Erik were meant for these roles and I know no one else will ever do."

Christine blushed under Meg's high praise. In truth, all her nervousness fell away once she felt Erik's presence behind her. She gave their performance her everything until there was no more to give. She thanked her friend profusely and they shared an embrace before Christine gently shooed her from her dressing room, wanting to get ready. She was about to sit at her vanity to unpin her hair when she noticed a lone flower lying on the table. She knew it had not been there when she went to change for the second act. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight; she picked up the rose carefully, burying her nose in its rich yellow petals and inhaling the sweet scent. The stem was thornless and had a yellow piece of ribbon tied around it. Even though it wasn't a red rose tied with black ribbon, she knew where it came from and her heart gave an excited throb. She had not expected this, never even thought about it until she saw the rose on her vanity. Even though its colours represented friendship and caring, she knew that he was no longer distant to her as he had been in London. It gave her hope and courage to step up and make her affections more obvious.

She reluctantly put the rose back down, sat at her vanity and removed the pins from her hair and the stage makeup she wore. She changed into a beautiful midnight blue dress that buttoned up at the front and tied the top of her hair with a matching ribbon. Giving the rose a last gentle caress, she smiled and went to meet the public.

* * *

 

She had given a few interviews before she even spotted Erik in the crowd. He was talking to someone, gesturing lightly around him, but she could not see who it was for his back was turned to her. She made a quick decision to stand nearby, so she could draw into conversation once the person finished speaking with him.

"Christine!" However, she was stopped by someone calling her name. At first she thought it was Meg but when the person called for her again, she was certain it was someone else. She turned around and her jaw nearly dropped; she almost didn't recognize Elizabeth, dressed in all finery, her fiery tresses up in an elaborate hairstyle. The woman beamed at her as she approached.

"Elizabeth? Is it really you?" The fell into a tight embrace before the older woman drew back and took her hands.

"It is! Oh, darling, I have missed you so!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "And look at you, you look absolutely stunning!" Christine blushed under her friend's appraisal and chuckled.

"You look like a queen, Elizabeth. What are you doing in Italy?"

"Oh, I'm my husband finally took me on our honeymoon. We've been married for two years and only now we are having a proper honeymoon." 

"Your husband? I would very much like to meet him!"

"And you shall! He's speaking with your Mr. Garnier over there." Even after these three years, Elizabeth did not stop referring to Erik as Christine's. She looked over to where they were standing and at last she spotted the man talking to Erik. Her eyes grew wide and she turned her stunned gaze back at Elizabeth, who looked almost sheepish.

" _Baron Marshall?_ " 

"I may have been a little hypocritical when I judged you for falling in love before I knew all the facts. I've been trying to tell myself I did not feel that way for him but at some point it just stopped working and I could not kid myself any longer. As it turned out, he has been in love with me as well and one night he just asked me to run away with him. Not literally, you see."

"You are a Baroness now! I am so happy for you!" Christine grinned at her friend and she could see the love exuding from her friend and knew that she was happy. Now she understood that peculiar expression Elizabeth had on her face at the ball night in the Baron's residence. Elizabeth gave her a cheeky smile and leaned closer to her, lowering her voice.

"I see you have found him again." Christine could not help but smile widely and her eyes slid involuntarily to the man in question. "I have often wondered what happened to you two. I knew you have been successful in your career but I prayed that you would find a way to each other. Seeing you now, the love so clear in your eyes, I'm incredibly happy. Does he know yet?"

"I have been here only for a few weeks and now I know you were right all along. I found him when I least expected it. He is a very complex man, so I cannot tell him yet for he wouldn't believe me. I will tell him and show him soon." She knew that the time to tell him the truth was coming and she felt nervous and excited all at once. What would he say? Did he still love her? If not, what would she do?

"That man must be blind to not see the love shining from your eyes. And tonight, my God Christine! I think you two nearly set the theatre on fire!" She blushed and let out a somewhat embarrassed chuckle. She certainly could not deny their chemistry and the passion with which they both sang tonight. "Oh, here goes my husband." Christine turned and saw Baron Marshall approaching until he stopped next to his wife, giving her a delicate kiss on the cheek. "Darling, you remember Christine."

"Of course. It is pleasure to meet you again, Miss." He kissed the back of her hand and she smiled. 

"Likewise, Baron Marshall. I hope you have enjoyed the performance."

"Oh, indeed! Genious! You were simply sublime!" She smiles and thanked him profusely. "You and Mr. Garnier fit very well. I did not know he could sing like that. I'm very glad I could see him and yourself again. However, we must leave now but I hope we will see each other again."

"Christine, please stay in touch! I need to know everything!" Elizabeth gave here a discreet wink and she blushed.

"Of course. And I hope we will meet again soon." With a parting embrace with her friend, she said her goodbyes to the happy couple and watched for a few moments as they walked away, wrapped in each other. When she looked back to where Erik was standing, she saw him deep in conversation with his sister, who could not pass on the opportunity to attend the premiere of her brother's work. The older woman noticed her and motioned for her to join them with a grin on her face. She bit her lip and came to stand beside Erik, their eyes locked for a moment.

"Christine!" Isabelle drew her into a warm embrace and she squeezed her friend tightly. "You look absolutely gorgeous tonight." She gave Christine an approving look and continued. "And your performance! Erik, I knew she had a talent but had no idea she could sing like that!" She felt his eyes on her and raised her head to get lost in those green orbs again.

"Indeed. I have never heard you sound quite so...inspired." He said with a hint of wonder in his voice and on his face. She blushed; if only he knew he was the sole inspiration for her singing tonight!

"It was spectacular, I am really proud of everyone."

"Thank you, Isabelle. Would you ladies like anything to drink?"

"Do not worry, brother. I will get us some refreshments." She gave Erik a glare when he was about to protest. Christine on the other hand was on the receiving end of a knowing, mischievous look and her blush deepened. Now that they were alone in the midst of the public and their colleagues, her tongue felt tied in knots and her palms started sweating. She looked up at him shyly, her fingers gently brushing the back of his hand to get his attention.

"Thank you for the flower." He merely gave her a tiny nod and a smile. The intensity of his gaze startled her and she felt her heart galloping in her chest. Neither said anything, their eyes just locked on each other for long moments before they were interrupted by the return of Isabelle.

* * *

 

Over the next two weeks she had stood beside Erik on the stage almost each night. The opera got many glowing reviews, bringing more and more people into the theatre and their acclaim had spread all over Italy. Every night of the production saw a fully packed building, some people even went to see their performance twice or three times. Each ending applause was exhilarating and the feeling never diminished. 

The end of the season was approaching fast and with it the ending of this amazing production. In the past week they had rehearsed an opera with a happy ending for a single performance for the annual Florence festival that marked the beginning of summer season. Of course, in Italy the summer weather came well before the official start of the summer season. It was hot and often humid, so the ladies have opted for wearing light dresses and everyone was in high anticipation of rain to cool the air a little bit. Christine and the two Giry ladies have returned back to the house for it was cooler there.

Christine was painfully aware that her temporary contract with the theatre was running out. The closer the time came, the more nervous she got. Would Erik want to renew her contract? It was the day off before the dernière of the opera when she gathered the courage and ask Erik what his intentions regarding this matter were. It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon, the weather was extremely hot and humid. It was overcast and she could faintly hear the distinct rumble of a thunder. She wiped away the sweat on her brow as she neared Erik's study. The door was slightly ajar and two voices came floating out of there, staying Christine's hand on the doorknob and she could not help but eavesdrop on Madame Giry and Erik's conversation.

"Erik, Christine's contract is about to run out next week."

"I am aware of that, Antoinette."

"Have you thought about what you are going to do about it?" Christine heard him sigh heavily and saw him rub his exposed brow as he went to stand by the window. There was a long moment of silence before Madame Giry spoke up again. Her question made her breath catch in her throat. "You love her still?" He was silent as he turned to his friend. He opened his mouth to speak when a cheerful voice came from somewhere behind Christine, startling her.

"Here you are, Christine! I've been looking-." Her eyes widened when she took in the scene. Christine looked mortified to be caught and felt two pairs of eyes on the back of her head. She turned slowly, first meeting Madame Giry's surprised eyes and then locking onto the eyes of the man who held her heart even though he was not aware of it. Her heart fell when she saw something behind his eyes shut down and he strode from the room, brushing past her and slamming the front door behind him. She swallowed hard and stared after him, only vaguely hearing Madame Giry's voice.

"What are you waiting for, child?"

She knew her foster mother was right. What exactly was she waiting for? This was her opportunity to tell him, to show him how she loved him. That it had always been him. She was not going to let him leave her again, not until he heard everything she had to say. Making a quick decision, she picked up her skirt and ran outside after him.

She was surprised by the rain that greeted her and for a moment felt a sense of déjà vu but shook it off and looked around to see where he headed off to. At last she saw his form striding away, his clothes already drenched by the falling raindrops. She quickened her pace, slipping a few times on the wet soil but caught herself just in time. She called out his name, pleaded him to stop but either he did not hear or chose not to listen. Her heart racing in her chest, she finally caught up with his long legs and grabbed his arm with both of her hands, desperately tugging him to a halt and forcing him to turn and face her. His face was drawn and his eyes were liquid fire, boring into hers. 

"Erik! You will listen to me!"

"Why?"

"Why?" Her question was incredulous. "My Angel never refused to listen to me."

"Angel?" There was a derisive chuckle coming from his mouth. "Have you forgot what I am?" He raised his hand towards the right side of his face. His eyes grew wide and stunned when in her anger, she pulled the mask away and let it fall on the ground, the rain filling the crevices with little pools of water. It had been too long since she had last seen his face. She caressed the scarred flesh with her eyes, lovingly tracing every bump and curve of uneven skin.

"This is not about it! It never was!" She said forcefully, finally letting out what she longed to say to him. His face did not matter to her. "Do you really think me so vain? That I would fear you for this? I have never feared you!"

"You could have fooled me." He looked away and she grew frustrated.

"I was never afraid, only your temper initially scared me. Your face does not define who you are."

"Have you forgot the monster who threatened your fiance? The monster who _murders all that's good_? The monster with _hardly a face_?" He turned back to her, the rage visible in the green depths of his eyes. She felt sick at the realization that he had been listening to her and Raoul's conversation before Don Juan and on the rooftop during Il Muto five years ago.

"I have said many things I despise myself for. I was hurting and let other people's opinions influence me. I never even asked why you killed Buquet, I just shunned you like the rest of them."

"That does not alter the fact that I murdered him. And I have been ready to strangle the life out of your boy that night. Of course, you have saved him so valiantly."

"I chose you!"

"You left me!"

"You sent me away!" She hated herself for her voice breaking in the middle but all of the hurt and pain came hurling forward before she could stop it. This was not how she imagined their conversation to go. He looked away again and her eyes filled with tears, mingling with the rain as it came down harder, the thunder raging around them in short intervals.

"It was the right thing to do." He mumbled.

"I chose you and I would have stayed. Then all of this did not have to happen, all this pain and heartbreak-"

"What do _you_ know about heartbreak?" He raged at her, accusing eyes piercing her soul. She knew his words were meant to hurt her but also knew he did not mean them. It was a measure of how much he was hurting too now that they have finally let their past out in the open.

"I know enough to know how you felt when I left you." Her voice wavered as she recalled the last morning in London. "You left me, just as I had left you once. Without an explanation, just a cold impersonal letter on the bedside table!" He was watching her intently, his breathing heavy from their confrontation, the rain dripping from his hair and chin.

"That night should have never happened. You had to bear the monster's marks upon your body for God knows how long." Christine swallowed hard; was that why he had left her? Because she had borne the marks he had left on her skin in midst of passion, thinking he had hurt her? The marks she had cherished and wished they would never fade, only to serve as a proof that she had not dreamt all of it?

"You may be many things but you are not a monster. I could tell you over and over again that your face does not matter to me but you will not believe me. I have seen you without the mask, I am looking at you _now_. I kissed you without the mask, remember? I-I made love to you without it..." His eyes lifted to lock with hers in surprise. He looked defeated, his shoulders slumped, any anger long gone. Just deep sorrow that tore at her heart but gave her the courage to continue.

"After the premiere you told me that you never heard me sound so inspired. It is true for I have never been able to relate to a character like that. I _know_ what she was going through when the man she loved left her. But he left her with a child and me? For a few weeks after I left London I prayed that I had such a piece of you with me but I was not that lucky. So I travelled around Europe, hoping to find you in one of the cities I have visited while performing there. I never stopped hoping, even after all these years. With every empty lead I knew that I was being punished for all the hurt I've caused to everyone. But I have found you again and I'm not letting you leave until you've heard everything I have to say." She paused and took a large breath, her lips quivering with emotions she kept hidden for so long.

"You have inspired everything I have ever done over the past three years. I sang only for you and even though I knew you were not there, I held you in my heart. You have inspired me to get a tutor and start with piano lessons, I needed to give music to the word floating in my head. I wrote a song...for you." She gave a little sad smile, her chest feeling tight as she felt herself sinking into despair the longer he stayed silent. "I know you've heard it that day, I caught a glimpse of you near the garden house. If this is meant to be the end, then I don't want anything to be left unsaid. I love you, Erik. I always have, even when I did not know my own heart. I just need to know...do you still love me?"

His face showed thousands of emotions but his eyes were so sad and she saw him swallow, his eyes glassy with unshed tears as he choked out:

"How can I not?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dress Christine is wearing after the premiere is [this one](http://www.metmuseum.org/collections/search-the-collections/106988). :)


	41. All paths led to this

The world around Erik ceased to exist except for the woman in front of him. It did not matter they were both soaking to the bone from the heavy rain. He felt naked without the protective cover of his mask, completely bare beneath her gaze. All of his hurt and anger dissipated and a new emotion welled up within him... _hope_. That wretched thing he had not allowed himself to feel for several years now blossomed in his chest the longer she talked. He did not know whether he was still breathing; he heard what she was saying but somehow the words did not fit together in his mind. The whole situation seemed rather surreal to him and he wondered whether he was looking through someone else's eyes, living someone else's life.

There was a lump in his throat as he stared at Christine; she was visibly upset and despite the rain he saw tears gather in her brown eyes, her wet hair clinging to her face and neck. Despite all that, he found her the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. What was left of his heart gave a lurch at the words coming from her lips. Did he dare believe her? Did he dare hope that she...she...His head spun as he looked into her imploring eyes following her confession. His own eyes stung and his chest felt tight, he had to blink and swallow to try and get rid of the feeling. 

God help him, but he _believed_ her. It was then that he decided; no more lies, no more half-truths, no more hiding or running away. He was going to risk his heart again, even if it had to kill him. 

"How can I not?" He choked out, his voice failing him at the admission he had kept inside for so long. He had tried to deny everything after she had left him and he had moved to London. He had tried to tell himself he didn't feel anything for her when she was his escort. In the last few weeks since she appeared on their doorstep it became harder and harder to keep fooling himself. He was not blind; he had noticed how she went out of her way to touch him, to talk with him or simply be in his presence. His head told him not to interpret it other than what it was - a renewal of their friendship. A rumble of thunder brought him from his musings and he found himself gazing into her eyes.

Her lips were parted slightly, her chest heaving as if she had run a mile, her eyes held a glimmer of hope. They stared at one another for a long time and before he could process what was happening, Christine captured his lips with hers with an urgency that took his breath away. Her fingertips brushed each side of his face, gently caressing the bumps and ridges of his deformity and the flawlessness that was his other cheek. He pulled her flush to him and she moaned into his mouth, trailing her hand along his jaw and down his neck, settling at the base of his throat. He pulled away slightly, looking at her almost incredulously. She met his eyes and seemed hesitant, unsure why he had pulled away so suddenly. Erik did not let her wonder for long, he claimed her mouth, marvelling at the way she responded to his every touch. 

She kissed him back with a ferocity he did not expect, yet he was not surprised by the inner fire she seemed to possess. He had been a witness to its power every time he stepped on the stage with her and only now he realized he was not the only one who didn't need to pretend during his opera. Now she clung to him fiercely, pressing her body into his as if she wanted to disappear inside him. He kept his arm tight around her while his other hand rose up, delved into her hair and held the back of her neck as he kissed her deeply. Light flashed beneath his closed eyelids and then suddenly there was a loud crack as the lightning struck in the area. He felt rather than heard Christine's squeal as they parted abruptly. He tried to catch his breath and calm his erratic heart from the fright and their heavy kisses. She had gripped his shirt and buried her head in his chest when they were startled by the loud sound of nature.

"We should head inside." Erik said after they had both calmed and glancing up, he could see the storm was not yet at its peak. He reluctantly withdrew from Christine, ignoring her curious gaze as he reached down and picked up his mask. It was wet and dirty from where it lay on the ground in the rain. He took a moment to look at it, feel its weight in his palm, trace over the all the familiar contours with his eyes. He had worn it everyday for more than the last two decades of his life. He swallowed and looked up at Christine. She was watching him patiently, a gentle look full of understanding which brought a lump to his throat. Oh God, how he loved her. He let his hand with the mask drop down to his side and extended his other hand towards her. The answering smile he was rewarded with was so beautiful he could hardly believe it was aimed at him. Trustingly, she placed her delicate hand into his and squeezed tight, as if she was afraid he would run. 

After a moment of hesitation, he led them to the garden house. He knew there were things they still needed to talk about and felt that the small house would be better for them and allow for no interruptions. He ushered her in first and then closed the door behind them. He kicked off his boots and Christine followed his example, leaving their wet and dirty shoes near the entrance. They were both dripping water from their clothes and he could see Christine began to shiver. 

"You should go change from your wet dress before you catch a chill. I know it is not much but I have some spare clothing in the bedroom."

"Thank you." She gave him a smile and disappeared through the door. He placed the mask on the piano before he crouched down by the fireplace, starting a nice strong fire that would keep them warm throughout the storm. It had not yet reached its crescendo but the wind outside picked up, the rain fell heavy upon the earth which welcomed the water after the few hot and dry weeks. Erik closed the curtains in front of the large windows and shed his own shirt, placing it over an armchair near the fire to let it dry, but not too close as to cause an accident.

He stared into the flames, wondering if the last ten minutes really did happen. Maybe he was hallucinating or maybe he was just dreaming. Yet his heart told him it was real thought he could not quite get his head around the fact that Christine indeed loved him. How? How could such an angel love such a man as he? He did not have a chance to further ponder that question for he felt her eyes on him. He didn't hear the sliding doors as she exited the bedroom but he knew she was there. He turned and his heart gave a throb at the sight of her, his mouth suddenly dry.

Dressed in his black silk robe, she padded to him on bare feet until they stood toe to toe. He wanted to say something but every word stuck to his throat. Was she aware how beautiful she was? Was she aware that the robe was the same one she had briefly worn after they had been intimate the first time? As they stared at each other, he saw what he had wished to see since the night he had let her go. The happiness shone from her eyes, her cheeks were slightly tinged pink and there was a soft smile teasing her lips. She never looked more lovely.

"You cannot be real." Erik blurted out what was on his mind, feeling decidedly foolish the next second. The wide smile he got in return made his heart beat in an irregular pattern.

"I assure you I am real." With that, Christine closed the distance between them and captured his lips in a sweet, slow kiss. He lost himself in her touch and scent, kissing her gently. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch in both of them, their kiss grew deeper and more urgent, and they held each other close. She ran her teeth gently over his bottom lip, sending a bolt of arousal down his spine. She slightly withdrew from his embrace and he wondered what she was doing until her hands rose to the ties of her robe, deftly undid it and let the silk cloth pool at her feet, leaving her gloriously bare for his hungry gaze, yet his eyes never left hers. She invaded his personal space again, pressing her naked body close, the tips of her breasts brushing against his bare chest. Her fingers trailed up over his torso until she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Erik, please make love to me." She whispered against his lips and then gave him a tiny kiss, looking into his eyes. He suppressed a shudder and wrapped his arms around her, his fingers caressing the soft skin of her back as he claimed her mouth in a deep kiss. He could never deny her anything. She responded to his advances with a passion he had known she possessed. Her sweet fingers traced the mangled flesh of the right side of his face, along his jaw and down his neck, stopping briefly to gently tease his nipples. He groaned when her hands slid lower, resting at the waistband of his trousers before undoing the button and sliding down the zipper in one fluid motion. He did not expect her uncharacteristic boldness and could only stare at her as she helped to get his trousers and undergarments over his hips, while her mouth peppered his collarbone with small kisses. The knowledge that she _desired_ him was almost too much to bear. He pulled her flush to him, eliciting a moan from both of them when their naked flesh met. The air around them heated and thickened and it didn't have to do anything with the fire roaring in the hearth.

Erik kissed her then, sampling the sweet taste of her, teasing her with soft flicks of his tongue. His hand ran up and down her side and he felt her shiver when his thumb brushed the underside of her breast. His other hand strayed lower, cupping her backside briefly before tracing her thigh, urging her to lift her leg and wrap it around his hip. She complied willingly and he held her firmly under the knee as he lifted her up and carried her over to the fireplace, lowering them both to the ground to the thick soft rug in front of it.

Christine welcomed him in her arms, spreading her legs to accommodate him in the nature cradle of her hips. They both moaned at their closeness and the passion between them grew. He sensed they were both ready but he wanted to take his time, relearn the dips and curves of her body and truly make love to her as he longed to do so for so long. Her sweet moans urged him on as he kissed his way down her lips and jaw over the smooth graceful column of her neck, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat, tasting rain on her skin. She arched against him with a wordless moan as he trailed lower, paying special attention to her breasts with his hands, tongue and mouth. She writhed in his arms and softly called out his name. He relished in her responsiveness to his touches as he smoothed his hands down her sides, his lips ghosting across her ribs down to her navel. What was it she had said? That she had wished he had given her a child? Would she want the same thing now as well? His heart raced in his chest and tears stung behind his eyes as he imagined a new life created from their love growing beneath the flesh his lips now skimmed across. How wonderful and yet terrifying thought that was!

Erik heard the slight hitch in her breathing as he drifted lower, opening her legs more with his shoulders as he held onto her hips. His eyes rose to look at her face and found her propped on her elbows, her teeth biting bottom lip, her eyes dark as their brown depths swirled with arousal as she watched him. He returned his attention to what he was doing and lowered her lips to her flesh, drawing out a long moan from her throat. He felt her hand in his hair, gently combing through the black strands and running her fingers across his scalp that made him groan against her. She whimpered and clutched at his hands, trailing her fingers and palms along his wrists and forearms. At that moment he felt her love encompass him completely and for a moment he felt undeserving of the gift she bestowed upon him. He continued to pleasure her, delighted in the little involuntary shudders of her thighs and stomach as she climbed steadily towards release.

"Erik..." His name was carried in a moan as Christine tugged at his wrists and he understood, even if he was most reluctant to stop his ministrations. He brought himself to her eye level and she pulled him in for a deep kiss, her tongue tangling with his in a passionate duel. He was surprised as her hands explored his body with confident strokes, running down his sides, and tracing the scars on his back. There was no pity in her eyes, only love and desire. Their lips met in a searing kiss and he felt her hands on his chest, paying attention to his nipples before trailing downward. Her touch wasn't unsure or hesitant as it had been the first time and she fixed her eyes on his face as her fingers wrapped around him. His breath shortened and he shuddered at the long torturous strokes of her hand.

The storm continued to rage outside but the two people inside the small house were lost in their own world, their bodies heated and beaded with perspiration as the fireplace added to the heat from their passion. Their eyes were locked when he felt her guide him inside her and didn't waver as he held still, his arms trembling from the effort. Her face was a myriad of emotions, her mouth went slack and her soft exhale of pleasure washed over him. He swallowed hard and if he had not believed her before, he did now. Her love for him shone from her eyes, mixing with the desire that matched his. He started to move, slowly at first, not wanting to hurt her but upon looking at her, he needn't have worried. She smiled at him, her expression one of ecstasy. Her breathless moans and wandering hands urged him on but he wanted to draw out their pleasure, make it last as long as he could. He watched in awe as she surrendered herself to him in the most primal way; he could hardly believe he was making love to the woman he loved for so long. He was stunned at the new emotions that stirred inside him, it was so very different. Bedding Sarah was only a temporary way to satiate their needs and although the first time with Christine came close, it could not compare to what he was feeling now. 

He dipped his head and kissed her with infinite tenderness, his heart bursting within his chest when he saw her eyes pool with tears at the gesture. She curled her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, deepening the kiss and setting his body on fire. He moved quicker and more urgently, drawing moans from both of them. Christine moved her hips in counterpoint to his and he marvelled at the way she was made to fit against him so perfectly. He could feel her heart beating fast and the telltale flutter of her muscles signalled her impending climax. He drove into her harder and deeper and heard an animalistic groan tangle with his, her head thrown back and her short nails digging into his shoulders. He forced himself to keep his eyes open, to watch the play of emotions on her beautiful face. Eyes open wide, the moan stuck to her throat until a couple of strokes later he felt her find her release, letting out a loud cry. He hissed at the sensation, following her over the edge a few moments later.

Hearts beating fast, their harsh breaths mingled as they stared at one another in awe before falling into a tight embrace. When at last their hearts calmed he withdrew from her and rolled them over so that she was nestled to his side. He smiled to himself when he felt her curl around him, holding him tight in her warm arms. He looked at Christine, whose head was on his shoulder, a soft happy smile playing upon her lips. He squeezed her tight to him and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"I love you." He whispered, feeling what he could only describe as bliss. She looked up at him with those large brown eyes and smiled, murmuring the same against his lips as she kissed him. Worried that Christine might catch a chill as their bodies cooled off, he let go of her briefly to pick up the blanket that was draped over the sofa and the two small pillows that adorned it. Erik contemplated moving them there but it wouldn't be comfortable for the sofa wasn't wide enough for the both of them and certainly not long enough for them to rest comfortably. He spread the blanket over their naked bodies and gathered her back into his arms. He couldn't help but stare at her; she was so perfect, her cheeks were rosy from their lovemaking, a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eye as she looked back at him. The knowledge that she loved him just as fiercely as he loved her left him breathless. 

The thunder rolled above their heads but neither cared; they made love a couple more times between talking in hushed whispers about everything they had gone through over the years and only succumbed to sleep when it got dark outside and the rain ceased to fall.

 

* * *

 

As the sun rose above the horizon the next morning, it found Christine propped on her elbow watching her unmasked lover as he slept. Erik looked so youthful and she took the opportunity to trace her eyes over his face, committing to memory every dip and curve, every imperfection of his disfigured side, the flawlessness that was his left side, every wrinkle in the corner of his eyes and around his mouth. He was so very beautiful in the morning light that filtered in through the curtains and she could hardly believe all that had transpired the day before. She could not even begin to express the joy she felt when he had confessed his love for her. It was everything she had ever dreamed of and it did not matter they were getting soaked to the bone.

What had happened afterward made her smile and blush; she had behaved quite wanton but he had not seemed to mind. When they had made love, she had felt finally complete, something she had not felt with Raoul. Then again, she had not loved him as a wife should have and thus had not desired him half as much as Erik. When he gathered her into her arms afterwards, she felt a sense of peace and serenity. They had not been this intimate in London and slept with a void between them but now they had been even reluctant to part.

Emerging from her memories, she smiled and looked at the sleeping man beside her. Even in his slumber he had a protective arm around her body, their legs tangled beneath the warm blanket. Not content with just looking at him, she raised her hand and ever so slightly trailed her fingers along his face, mapping the various textures of his skin. She ran her index finger along his brow, down the slope of his nose, his drooping eyelid, his fuller lower lip and the dip just below it, her touch lingering at the small dimple at his chin. He did not stir, so she continued on her secret exploration of his body. She wanted to know every bit of him, just as he knew hers, and know what pleased him. She blushed slightly and bit her lip, though her fingers continued their quest down his jaw and strong neck and shoulders. She drew the blanket slowly back and the force of her yearning took her by surprise. She withdrew from his embrace, stilling to make sure he would not awaken and then sat by his side, using both of her hands to explore the flesh of his torso, fingers brushing along the lines of firm muscle. She had seen his arousal when she uncovered him and forced herself not to blush at the sight. She remembered the few times she had woken before Raoul only to find him in a similar state. Smiling discreetly, she decided to ignore it for a while and let her hands trail over his stomach, past his hips and the strong sinewy thighs and calves.

Christine observed his sleeping face and decided she would wake him gently, let him know he was not alone and that yesterday had not been a dream. He slightly moved in his sleep and she took the opportunity to kneel between his legs. Her hands ran back up his legs and fire burned through her veins at the thought of what she was about to do. She gently grasped him in her hand, marvelling at the soft texture yet hardness beneath her fingers as she stroked him. He stirred with a soft moan but did not wake completely. She hid a smile and focused on what she was doing, tightening her hand around him ever so slightly. 

She could remember the talks she had overheard in the girls' dormitories back in Opera Populaire when some of the more _experienced_ girls had shared some things with the more curious dancers and chorus members. She had remained off to the side, not wanting to talk about such matters but feeling discreetly curious. What she had overheard caused a furious blush in her cheeks at the time. She remembered how hard it had been to talk with her Angel afterwards, feeling sinful and wicked for imagining him as a mortal, wondering if he would enjoy such act. Now that he was here, perfectly formed flesh and bone beneath her, she wanted to please him, worship his body the way he had done to her. 

Bending over him, she used her tongue first, her touch tentative, not wishing to hurt him. She heard him moan but his eyes were still closed. Maybe he thought he was lost in a dream? Emboldened by the thought of him waking up and seeing her like this, she enveloped him with her mouth, following her instincts. Christine heard a groan and a moment later a hand found its way into her brown tresses. She lifted her eyes and found him watching her, though his eyes were still glazed over from his sleep. He moaned her name and licked his lips as she continued to pleasure him. One of her hands trailed over his stomach, caressing his skin on its way up to his heart. He took her hand then, enveloping her in his larger one and holding them to his chest. He groaned again and she enjoyed the tiny involuntary movements of his hips and the shudder of his muscles.

"Christine..." He whimpered and tugged on her hand; she understood his silent message and let him go, climbing up to him and straddling his hips, enjoying the feel of his skin on hers. She bent over him, her hair falling around them like heavy curtain, shielding them from the outside world. She smiled at him then and kissed the tiny dimple on his chin.

"My little temptress..." Erik grinned and ran his hands up her sides until they were once again tangled in her hair and pulled her down for a hungry kiss. Up until that moment she had not realized how aroused she actually was and was surprised at the force of it. She moaned and reached for him again, guiding him inside her flesh. She gasped into his mouth at the contact and hoped it would never stop feeling this way. They moved slowly together in the morning sun rays, savouring every moment. She straightened, looking down at him in adoration as she moved above him. He was not content with simply looking; his hands were everywhere on her, stoking the flames of pleasure even higher. He sat up and maneuvered them so that he was sitting with his back propped on the sofa. They embraced each other close until they found release, whispers of love tangling in the minute space between their lips. As their heartbeat settled into normal rhythm, she withdrew from him and turned around, so that she could sit between his legs, resting her head back on his shoulder while he wrapped the blanket around them, enveloping her within his arms.

"Where...where did you learn how to do that?" He asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

"Nowhere. I have never done it before." Christine bit her lip and ducked her head, but the finger tracing her jaw brought her eyes back to his. "Did I please you?" He gave her a kiss and smiled at her.

"Never doubt that, my love." The corners of her mouth stretched upwards and she felt strangely invigorated by the knowledge that her novice touches pleased him. The world around them disappeared for a moment as they kissed, slow and languid. After they parted, she settled back into his arms, sighing in contentment. She did not want to leave their little cocoon of warmth but for the first time since yesterday, thoughts about the world outside filtered into her mind.

"What time is it?" She asked as he smoothed his hands up and down her arms slowly. His touch wasn't meant to arouse but simply to comfort and reassure each other of their feelings.

"Hmmm." He didn't answer at first save for the low hum as he continued the trek with his fingers. She closed her eyes "About half past eight." Her eyes flew back open at his matter-of-fact tone.

"Erik!" She squeaked in panic but he looked at her in confusion. "The theatre! I am supposed to be in rehearsals in half an hour!" He just looked at her calmly. "I understand that being the theatre manager you can go in and out as you please, but I am just a cast member. I'm not dressed and I haven't even had breakfast!" 

"Hush." Erik put a finger to her lips to silence her. She kissed the soft pad, bringing a smile to his face. "I can tell them it was me who detained you while we discussed the renewal of your contract. It is something we must discuss later today anyway." He caressed her cheek lovingly with the back of his fingers. "Besides, you're not just anything." He kissed the tip of her nose and she chuckled.

"As you wish, Monsieur. Before we go, I need some breakfast. I am famished." She drew back from his embrace and stood, pushing away her self-consciousness and walked over to the sliding doors of the bedroom. Before she entered, she cast a glance over her shoulder only to catch him staring at her in obvious appreciation.

 

* * *

 

It didn't take them long to dress and put the house in some semblance of order before they left and headed off to the main house hand in hand. As they expected, Meg and Madame Giry had already had their meal and gone to the theatre, so they ate their breakfast quickly and hailed a carriage. Erik instructed the driver to stop behind the theatre to avoid detection from the other cast and crew. They both knew speculations have been flying around since the premiere of Il Segreto, and even before that when the former members of the Opera Populaire saw that Christine had been hired.

After several heated kisses shared behind the close curtains of the vehicle, they were at the theatre, most reluctant to part. He pulled her into a dark secluded corner and gave her a kiss that made her legs unsteady and her mind thinking of nothing but him. Once he released her with a promise to see her again soon, she darted to her dressing room, sitting at her vanity and trying to cool her flaming cheeks.

"Christine!" She jumped at the sound from the doorway. It seemed her dear friend Meg had developed a bad timing manners as of late. Christine turned and smiled, hoping that her blush had somewhat dissipated. "I thought it was you who I saw running here."

"Good morning, Meg." She greeted casually and started to prepare for the rehearsal. She was already late, so she hurried behind the screen to change into her costume.

"Good morning indeed." Christine decided to ignore the grin she heard in Meg's tone and focused on her dressing. There was a long moment of silence that made her very suspicious until Meg spoke up again. "Well?" She finished with her dress, for it was light and slightly revealing for her character role, and went back to sit at her vanity.

"Well what?" Her friend merely raised an eyebrow. "I am not telling you anything." Meg let out a giggle.

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face. You look thoroughly ravished." Christine flushed bright red and turned her eyes to Meg in shock. The knowing grin on her face unnerved Christine. She swallowed and concluded that Meg was her best friend and therefore could share some things with her.

"How do you even know what that even looks like?" There was a moment of silence as Meg bit her lip and found her pointe shoes all too fascinating. Sudden realization dawned on Christine and her eyes grew wide, her squeak of surprise louder than she intended. "Meg?!"

"Shh!" The ballerina quickly closed the door behind her and moved to lean against her vanity. "Don't tell maman or she will have my hide." Christine watched the happiness and love in her friend's eyes and found she could not judge her for the very same thing she was guilty of. "I am very happy for you both, Christine. I have never doubted Erik's love for you, even after all these years."

"I feel like this cannot be real, that I'm somewhere in Sweden or England just dreaming all of this." Meg gave her an understanding smile, reached down and pinched her hard in the arm, causing a loud yelp from the soprano. She glared at the blonde woman and rubbed the painful spot, but found herself grinning widely.

"See? It is very real, Christine." She offered her hand and smiled. "Come, or Monsieur Reyer will have a fit. We are already late." Hand in hand, they hurried for their rehearsal. Monsieur Reyer seemed to be a little preoccupied by a supplying orchestra member, who did not quite yet manage to master the music. Madame Giry, on the other hand, gave them a stern look as she ushered everyone into their positions. Erik had entrusted her as the stage director and ballet mistress for this production and her cane would often rival Erik's anger.

Christine could not quite meet the woman's eyes but as if sensing her unease, her foster mother pulled her aside after she made the ballerinas practice their routines. The small smile and the warmth in her eyes took Christine by surprise; mere moments ago she had been giving them a glare. She wasted no time with pleasantries and went straight to the point.

"Christine, I just want you to know that I have always prayed that you would find a way to each other. I hoped that maybe you would talk things out after Don Juan but despite that I still sent the Vicomte after you." To Christine's surprise there was guilt written in the older woman's face.

"I never blamed you for anything. You could not have known what I myself was not aware of at the time. Perhaps we had to go through all of that pain so that we could be together now." Madame Giry observed her for a while as if seeing Christine for the first time.

"I've never realized how you've grown." She smoothed her hand down Christine's hair in a fond motherly gesture. "I am so proud of you. And incredibly happy for you both." Christine smiled widely and drew her foster mother into a tight embrace. When they drew apart, the ballet mistress gave her a mock stern glare. "Although I hope you will get married soon, you cannot carry on like this." Christine blushed and bit her lip as the look on Madame Giry's face turned knowing and her lips stretched into a rare smile. "Now off you go." She was ushered back on stage and the rehearsals were in full swing once again.

 

* * *

 

**Few months later**

Christine sighed as she rolled from her side to her back again for the fifth time during the night, unable to sleep. She found early on it was impossible for her to fall asleep without Erik at her side ever since they had admitted their feelings to each other a few months ago. Glancing at the clock, she could barely make out the time but knew it was sometime after midnight. Erik was at the theatre, preparing for the second big production of the season. She knew he would come home late tonight, yet could not help missing him and his warmth by her side.

Erik. _Her husband._

She smiled. He had proposed on their holiday in Venice under the starry sky on the gondola cruising Venice canals. It had been two weeks after the dernière of Il Segreto and she remembered being thrown into a state of stunned, speechless surprise. She had not expected him to propose so early but had not minded in the slightest, launching into his arms with a loud 'yes' that must have woken up the whole Venice and nearly made them both topple over into the water. There had been no reason for waiting, so the following week they had married in a civil ceremony surrounded by everyone that mattered - the Girys of course, Erik's sister and her son and the Baron and Baroness Marshall. Christine had been a bit disappointed that they could not have a wedding in a church and she could not wear white for him, but Erik had insisted he did not care. She had worn a beautiful ivory dress, much like the one Erik had designed for her back in the Opera and the wedding had been everything she had ever dreamed of.

The bedroom door opening quietly brought her back from her memories. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, so that she could silently observe him through half-closed eyelids. He moved silently, still very much like the Phantom in that regard and started to undress.He moved into the adjoining bathroom, emerging moments later clothed in his night clothes. He sat on the bed with his back towards her and she took the opportunity to watch him. He took off his mask and placed it on the bedside table. She smiled inwardly; only recently he had shed the mask when they were alone and though he knew their friends would not mind if he moved about maskless, they did not pressure him and simply waited patiently. Christine was very proud of her husband and grateful that her love showed him he could trust her. She saw him rub his face and sigh softly and she could tell he was tired. Making a decision, she rose on her knees behind him and enveloped him in her arms.

"Did I wake you?" He asked quietly and relaxed in her embrace, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them reverently.

"No, I couldn't sleep." She felt the tension in his shoulders and automatically began to loosen the knots in his muscles, smiling softly to herself at the tiny moans he was letting out while her fingers worked their magic.

"You should rest."

"I can't sleep very well without you by my side." Erik turned his head to the side to look at her and she smiled at him softly, pressing a tiny kiss to his lips, which stretched a little under her ministrations.

"Good thing I am here then." He murmured against her lips and they both settled under the covers, holding each other close. They kissed languidly for long moments and she watched surprise flutter across his face when he felt what else has been preventing her from sleeping. His palm came to rest on her swollen belly, feeling the exuberant kicks of their child. The sight of the golden band around his finger made her breath catch whenever she looked at it.

He began to stroke the bump lovingly, the first soft notes of the lullaby he used to sing to her when she had been a child floating out of his mouth. The life within her settled and calmed and Christine marvelled at the thought that their child recognized his or her father's voice. She closed her eyes and the golden voice accompanied her dreams as she finally fell asleep.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a new POTO fic in the works and the first chapter will hopefully be released soon. It will be named 'Curse of the Mask', a medieval-ish AU, and this is the summary:
> 
> "Lady Christine arrives with her father, Duke of Baideanach to Alterwood Castle to marry Raoul, Prince of Glayweth. There she meets his mysterious masked cousin who turns her life upside down. But not everything is as it seems..."
> 
> So watch this space! :)


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